Frosties and Fireworks
by The OC Architect
Summary: All of AJ's life, she was always told that she couldn't. Couldn't go to college, couldn't be a biochemist, couldn't make a difference, just because of her gender. Stubborn as she is, AJ joins the war effort and things start going her way when she meets the blue-eyed soldier who finally tells her that she can, and she's determined to prove he's right. Bucky/OC
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** I'd thrown around the idea of a _The First Avenger_ fanfic for a while now, even though I know I shouldn't have, but this idea won't stop pinging around in my head like a pinball. I am absolutely obsessed with Bucky Barnes, and this is the result. He is a fluffball that deserves so much better. So, instead of sleep, I wrote this after watching _Civil War_ for a sixth time on my handy-dandy laptop. I have the next chapter of my _Agents of SHIELD_ story almost done, so that'll be up soon, I promise.

So, as an introductory to this here story, it's going to have dates so you all know what's happening. I plan loosely (and I say loosely because everyone who has read anything of mine KNOWS that me and updating [or finishing stories in general] never really happens, but I have a certain degree of hope for this one because Captain America is what going me into the Marvel Universe in the first place and I've had a certain affinity for Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes ever since) to span _The First Avenger_ and after that, well, I have an idea, but it depends on whether this story even takes off. This is gonna be Bucky/OC because my muffin deserves this. I _think_ that's all I need to say.

So as usual, follow and favorite, drop a review if you feel so inclined and want to see more. 3

 **Rating:** T for swearing and violence.

 **Disclaimer:** Y'all know what's mine and what isn't by this point.

 **Editing:** All editing it done by me, all mistakes are mine.

 **Face Claim:** Sophia Bush (like, _One Tree Hill_ days).

* * *

 _Prologue_

 **May 6, 1940 – Harvard University, Cambridge, Massachusetts**

I paced back and forth, wringing my hands nervously. I'd already smoothed my skirt down a countless number of times. I'd already rolled up my sleeves to my elbows, rolled them back down, and then rolled them back up. On three different occasions. The nervous feeling in my gut built and I tugged subconsciously at my dark curls as I stalked up and down backstage. Out beyond the opening curtain, I could hear the Dean of Students preparing to introduce the graduating class speaker. Preparing to introduce _me._

Public speaking was not a strong point for me. Not at all. Why I'd accepted when the Dean offered to let me speak, I had no idea. I was still trying to figure it out myself.

Clenching my fists, I turned around and nearly screamed as I ran into my two best friends and my little brother, who had somehow made their way backstage.

"I can't do this," I blurted. "I don't do public speaking. I don't even like speaking in general when more than five people are listening!"

Lydia Butler, my best friend since childhood, had the gall to laugh to my panicked state. "Come on, AJ, you'll be _fine_. Besides, didn't you tell me the Dean asked you to speak back in December? You've been planning this speech for months now, what do you have to worry about?"

"Oh, I don't know, Lyd, only the fact that my entire graduating class and their families, my professors, and basically everyone whose opinion matters to me are going to be listening!" I exploded quietly, flailing my arms.

"Shhh!" hushed my other best friend, Jane Forrester, who had transferred to our high school in our freshman year. "Just take a deep breath, Frosty."

"Yeah, _Frosty_ ," snorted my ten year old brother, Henry.

"Don't call me that," I snapped, shooting a glare at him. He stuck his tongue out at me and crossed his arms.

"Wait! Wait, I think you're on…" said Lydia, shushing us and holding up a hand.

"Great," I said sarcastically, "you don't even know."

Just then, I heard the Dean's voice again and exhaled. I wasn't late. But that didn't mean good news. "Now, I'd like you all to join me in welcoming newly named doctor, Adelyn Frost, a graduate of this year's class here at Harvard University."

Applause thundered out beyond the curtain, seemingly shaking the entire auditorium. I felt my throat constrict and my breathing slow. I couldn't do this. There was no way. I was a scientist, not a public speaker. Give me a lab and a few test tubes, and _that_ was where I was comfortable. At a podium in front of nearly a thousand people? Not so much. I tugged at the collar of my dress, feeling as if it was closing in on my windpipe.

"Go!" hissed Lydia.

I felt my friend's hand at the small of my back, shoving me forward through the break between the main curtain. People were still clapping. The harsh lighting on the stage forced me to squint through the blinding bright overheads. To my left, the Dean of Students, Doctor Calvin Lewis, was smiling at me, clapping as well. The smile was encouraging to a degree, but my stomach was in knots. Sure, I couldn't see the audience past the lighting, but I knew they were there and that was enough to make me nervous.

I stepped up to the expensive mahogany wood podium and glanced down uncomfortably at the papers scattered on the surface. My heart leapt to my throat when I didn't see my own stack of notes. Finally, after what seemed like ages, my eyes found the note packet on my speech and relief flooded through me like a tidal wave. The last thing I needed was to speak freely offhand, especially when I was nervous. I tended to ramble. Me rambling was _never_ good thing.

At last, the applause in the auditorium stopped. It was silent, until one of the people seated coughed a bit, prompting me to clear her throat. I could have heard a pin drop if I had one.

"Thank you, Doctor Lewis," I began, wincing a bit at the slight quiver in my voice. I cleared my throat once more. "And thank you all for having me speak today on the behalf of the Class of 1940. It felt like we'd never get here. But we did." I paused, looking down at her notes. They were short and simple. Talk about your achievements and get the hell out. That was the plan.

But somehow, now that I was standing there, looking out through the bright lighting, the idea didn't seem to do justice to the rest of the class. They'd all worked as hard as me, if not harder to get to where they were. We all deserved a little recognition. Especially the rest of the women in the audience.

I shoved my noted aside, making a split second decision. Maybe rambling wasn't such a bad idea.

"I had notes on this entire thing, but I think I'm going to go off book for this one. A fair warning though, I tend to talk a lot when I'm nervous, so I apologize in advance if I get off track." There was a smattering of chuckles through the audience that calmed my nerves and loosed the knot in my stomach the slightest. "I grew up with people always telling me I couldn't. I couldn't go to school because I had to stay home and work. I couldn't go to college because we couldn't afford it unless I got a full ride, which I am proud to say, I managed. I couldn't be a biochemist. I couldn't get my doctorate. And I was sick of people putting limits on me just because I was a girl.

"My college experience has led me to realize that those limitations aren't only put on women. They're put on a lot of folks. Women, blacks, cripples, and basically anyone who isn't a white man in good physical condition with half a brain.

"But in light of recent world events, a lot of those white men with half a brain are going to be doing something else. Not going to college, no, but there's going to come a time, and it's going to be soon, mark my words, that this country is going to be at war again. And those men are going to be out fighting for our freedom and, some of them, paying the ultimate sacrifice. They aren't going to have time for college. So who's going to be in our colleges? I'll tell you who. Women. Blacks. Cripples. People who can but who have been told all their life that they can't. And the same people that told us back then that we couldn't are going to need our help. Maybe from this war, we can learn something about each other as country. That white men aren't the only capable human beings.

"Taking it a step further, the entire _world_ thinks that the United States can't. That we can't make a difference in the war that's raging just over the Atlantic. But out there, Europe needs our help against Germany, just as the white men of America need the help of the minorities in this time, whether anyone wants to admit it or not. And we're going to give it to them.

"Here at Harvard, despite what I've said, I'm glad to say that I enjoyed my experience here. The professors were welcoming, even if skeptical at first. My fellow students were…critical, but kind. This school gave me the chance to achieve my full potential and not just me, but so many others as well. At Harvard in the past few years, we've taken the first steps toward cell regeneration. Towards something bigger than all of us that I'm proud to say I took a part in.

"As I said, the world is on the brink of war and the technology that we're advancing everyday here at Harvard can make a difference in the lives of so many men. I'm proud when I look around see what my graduating class has accomplished and I'm excited to see what we're able to do in the future. I'm excited to watch people told that they can't prove the world wrong and show them that they _can_ , because that's what I did. Even when the whole world stood against me, my own family included, I proved them wrong. Even as the whole world stands against us as a country right now, we're going to fight back. Congratulations, Class of 1940. We're all about to take part in something that's bigger than all of us. And I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Applause erupted through the crowd and the nervous tension in my stomach dissolved. I shook Doctor Lewis's hand as he was smiling brightly at me, and exited the stage, through the curtain which I came. Once I was out of sight, Lydia and Jane ambushed me, hugging me and squealing in my ear.

"That was great, AJ!" gushed Lydia.

"Yeah, who knew?" asked Jane slyly.

"Not me," muttered Henry. "Remember that one time Sam asked you to speak at his wedding?"

I rolled my eyes in response and cuffed him lightly on the back of his head. Henry grumbled an indignant 'Ouch!' and glared at me as he rubbed the back of his head. I shook her head. "Never again. Never again will I do that. Give me a lab and a sample of an infectious disease, and I'm fine. A podium and a crowd of people? No thank you."

"Oh, quit exaggerating, you did amazing," waved off Lydia. "Now how much longer until we can go for milkshakes?"

"Milkshakes!" cheered Henry in agreement, seeming to completely forget about his reason for complaining.

"They started reading off the names of our class as soon as I stepped off. Only about fifteen minutes or so," I dismissed lightly. A puff of pride had swelled in my chest as the realization hit me that I was about to collect my doctorate. My _doctorate_. _Take that Dad,_ I thought proudly. I couldn't help the grin that spread itself across my face.

Jane folded her arms across her chest, her red hair pulled up tightly in a neat bun, framing her angular features. As she sniffed, her nose twitched, her splash of freckles rippling across her features. "I can't believe you're getting a doctorate in biochemistry. My parents are always complaining about how I should be more like you. Apparently nursing school wasn't enough," she snorted.

"Technically, I also went through nursing school," I pointed out as I changed into my cap and gown with the assistance of Lydia. "I double majored."

" 'Double majored,' she says. Why don't you just let my parents adopt you and solidify the fact that I'm such a disappointment," drawled Jane with a smirk.

"Are you going to join the war effort with us then?" asked Lydia hopefully as she helped me shrug on the gown.

I frowned, her nose wrinkling up. "I know what I said in my speech and stuff, but the _United States_ hasn't even joined the war effort."

"Oh, please," dismissed Lydia, "You know as well I do that Nazi Germany isn't going to go down without us. England'll be calling any day now, begging for our help. You said it yourself."

"That was a ploy in the effort for equality for women."

Lydia dismissed me with a wave of her hand. "You still said it."

I smirked. "You really think England's gonna call up President Roosevelt any day now?"

"Oh, darling, I don't think," purred Lydia, "I _know_."

I couldn't help it as I rolled my eyes. "I have to go, guys. Got a degree to collect."

Lydia flounced back, her blonde curls bouncing, and she played with my hair for a moment, framing the dark brown strands around my face. "Go get 'em, Frosty," said Lydia with a wink once she was done playing.

I heard Doctor Lewis's voice a moment later. "Adelyn Juliet Frost."

I took a deep breath for the second time that night and stepped into the spotlight.

* * *

 **Meanwhile, in the audience…**

"Regenerating cells. That's impressive, right?" muttered Colonel Chester Phillips to his companion. His companion, the genius Howard Stark, who was too busy munching on a hotdog to be paying attention to the ceremony. Colonel Phillips rolled his eyes and scowled. "Howard!"

Howard Stark jumped a little, turning to face the grizzled older man. His mustache was stained with mustard, cheeks puffing out like a blowfish, presumably full of hotdog. "Hrmph?" he said, which Colonel Phillips assumed must've meant, "What?"

Phillips scowled at Howard. "I said, regenerating cells. That's good, right?"

Howard swallowed. "Oh, yeah, that's really good. Incredibly impressive, actually," he whispered. "Of course, they're probably nowhere near close to doing anything monumental. I've been trying to find a way to do that for months and I haven't even gotten close."

Colonel Phillips narrowed his eyes at Stark while he spoke. His mustache quivering with mustard was quite distracting, more so than Phillips would have liked to admit. "You're an engineer, Stark. This woman, she's a professional at this. You know that, right?"

Howard, who had taken another bite of his hotdog, froze, mid-chew, and glared at Chester Phillips. "An' wha's tha' s'posed ta mean?" he demanded, his mouth full. _Again_.

Colonel Phillips rolled his eyes, but couldn't hold back the miniscule half-grin that tugged at his lips. "It means you're an idiot. And wipe your goddamn mouth, you're getting mustard everywhere."

Just as Colonel Phillips stopped talking, a bit of the yellow substance dropped off of Howard's mustache onto his khaki slacks. Howard muttered something unintelligible that probably wasn't very polite as he polished off the last of his hotdog and wiped his mouth with his napkin, before folding it in half and dabbing at his pants. "You could've told me."

"Yeah, I could've."

Howard scowled as he watched the young woman who had spoken, Adelyn Frost, reenter to accept her degree. "A doctorate in biochemistry," whistled Howard. "Color me impressed. She's young, too."

Colonel Phillips rolled his eyes. "Don't get any ideas, Stark. We're trying to recruit her for our cause, not scare her half-way across the world."

"If we don't start breaking down HYDRA soon, there won't be another side of the world to run to," murmured Howard.

As much as Chester Phillips hated to admit it, Howard Stark was correct. They needed to get the upper hand on the Nazis' deep science division. The only problem was, as far as Chester could see, there was no way to gain the upper hand.

"She definitely seems to like the idea of the United States joining the war effort," commented Phillips.

"Or it was just an analogy to relate to her feministic point," suggested Howard.

"Shut up, Stark, can't a soldier be hopeful?"

"You really want to recruit her?"

"Is that really a question you have to ask?" asked Phillips, looking at Stark.

Howard merely shrugged. "You'll have to spell it out for me."

"Look at her, Stark. She's practically a genius. She's only twenty-three. She supports the war—"

"Feministic ploy," muttered Howard.

"—effort and you two would get along fabulously, I can already tell. And you can't tell me that you didn't notice that she's absolutely stunning."

Howard quirked an eyebrow in amusement. "I did, in fact, but I wasn't going to say anything. I'm surprised _you_ said anything."

"I'm sixty-four, not dead, Howard," grunted Phillips, clearly unamused.

Howard snorted and clapped along with the rest of the crowd as the girl—Adelyn Frost—stepped up on stage again to receive her doctorate. The applause was thunderous as she walked off stage and Howard was sure he even heard a few cat calls.

He was surprised, of course. Colonel Phillips had been entirely correct: Ms. Frost was absolutely gorgeous. And a genius. Positively brilliant. A doctorate at twenty-three was unheard of. A _woman_ getting her doctorate at twenty-three was absolutely stellar. Phillips had a point and Howard had half a mind to agree with the idea to recruit her, but he was still nervous. Not because she was a woman, no, but because he hated to involve _anyone_ in what they were doing. Their work was absurdly dangerous and he didn't want to get anyone involved that wasn't necessary. But Howard needed all the help he could get if they were actually going to achieve what Phillips was planning. It was one hell of a long shot, and he couldn't deny that Ms. Frost would be an asset.

Howard sighed in defeat. "Are we going to talk to her?"

Phillips merely grunted. "You're on board then?"

"Did I actually have a say at all?"

For the first time, Colonel Phillips grinned widely at Howard, clapping him on the shoulder. "No, you didn't. See, I told ya you'd catch on."

"Yeah, lovely," muttered Howard, but a grudging smile graced his features.

"We don't talk to her tonight. Not yet. Let her have her time with her family and friends. The United States hasn't even officially joined the war yet. She has time. Let her enjoy it while it lasts."

"Whatever you say, boss," muttered Howard, clapping as yet another graduate crossed the stage. He paused for a moment as his stomach growled. "Say, can I get another hotdog?"


	2. Chapter One

**Author's Note:** Bahahahaha, I love Bucky Barnes so much. I'm surprised at the response I got to this story, favorites and follows wise. It was overwhelming, honestly. I don't wanna sound particularly needy, but please also drop a review here and there, just for feedback's sake. Enjoy this chapter, which I happened to finish early, just because I can't seem to stop writing. That said, I'm going to go continue to write. So, yeah! Enjoy!

PS: About a year in a half has passed. Yeah, there are going to be some pretty big time gaps.

 **Rating:** T for swearing and violence.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Captain America. If I did, let's just say Nick Spencer would be fired. #SayNoToHYDRACap

 **Editing:** All editing it done by me, all mistakes are mine.

 **Face Claim:** Sophia Bush (like, _One Tree Hill_ days).

* * *

 _Chapter One_

 **December 24, 1941 – US Recruiting and Induction Center, New York City, New York**

"I'm just saying," I said, my mouth stuffed with food, "Germany's not going to last. Not against all of the Allied Powers together."

My oldest brother, Sam, sat across from me in our booth, stirring his split pea soup absentmindedly, a frown plastered on his face, deep in thought.

We were in a small diner that wasn't very well known across from the Recruitment Center, where I was doing medical examinations for enlistees. It was a bit past noon, and I was on my lunch break. Sam, the oldest one in our large family, was in town from Savannah for the week and we had decided to catch up. Jane was with us and had been sitting with us, but a couple of the men who had just come from the center came into the diner, and of course, the flirt had to go, well, _flirt._ When it came to men, my best friends were hopeless. Lydia was worse, but she was taking extra hours back in the center so she could take off Christmas tomorrow. I could hear Jane's high pitched giggles from the whole way across the diner.

Samuel, the oldest of the six of us, pondered on my words as he shoveled a spoonful of soup into his mouth. "I dunno, AJ. Germany has Japan. We took a hard hit from Pearl Harbor a couple weeks ago. Dad still hasn't heard from West. Mom's getting worried."

West was the second oldest and Mom's favorite. It wasn't a secret. The entire family knew it. You'd think it'd be her only daughter (ahem, _me_ ), but no, it was Westley. He enlisted right out of high school and joined the Navy. He was stationed in Pearl Harbor when the bombing happened. Our entire family was worried sick. I was surprised, though, that Sam had talked to our parents. They hadn't been on good terms when he left and got married to some Southern belle down in Georgia that the family barely knew. I'd only even met Eileen once at the wedding. Our parents hadn't been invited due to their lack of support.

"You've talked to them?" I asked, unable to hide the surprise that laced my tone as I scooped another bite of mashed potatoes into my mouth.

Sam shifted uncomfortably across our table. "Yeah. Only once, though. I stopped by the old place on my way into the city. Dad was happy to see me, but Mom…between not knowing West's whereabouts and with me just showing up, she was a bit overwhelmed. Yelled at me a bit for not inviting them to the wedding and whatnot. The gout, you know? Dad seemed alright, though. He wants me to bring up the kids next summer."

As I took a sip of my Coca-Cola, I could barely suppress the urge to let it spew from my mouth. I swallowed the sweet drink roughly and glared at Sam. "Kids?! Plural?!"

A wide grin broke out across his face, his gray-green eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree. "She's two months in as of yesterday. I was going to tell you in a more subtle way, but I'm shit at keeping secrets. Dougie's excited, even though he doesn't really understand. He's just excited because mommy and daddy are, I think. His birthday's next week," he added. "He'll be two."

I whistled. Time really had flown by. I remembered clear as day when I got the letter from Sam that Eileen was pregnant. I'd driven down for Douglas's birth with West and Henry. My two other older brothers, George and Charlie, hadn't been able to come with us, but sent Sam and Eileen their best. I was convinced Dougie liked me more than all of his uncles, and Sam had confided in me that that prediction was correct. He missed 'Auntie Addie' and asked about her a lot, according to Sam.

"We'll have to go shopping for him so you can take something back down to Savannah for him. Maybe tomorrow?" I suggested.

Sam nodded in agreement as he polished off the last of his soup. He ran a hand through his dark, curly hair, and said, "I don't have anything better to do. Maybe we can get a card and stop at Dad's afterwards. Let the family sign it. See if Westley's sent a letter yet." He paused. "Are the other rascals still here in New York then?"

"George is in the process of moving in with his fiancée in Queens and Charlie's still in grad school. I think he's in the student dorms." I grimaced at the mention of George's fiancée, but Sam didn't seem to notice.

My brother snorted and grinned at me as he stood up. "Bet that rubs him the wrong way. Charlie's baby sister is out of college, with a _doctorate_ , no less, before he's even done with grad school."

I smirked and stood up as well, stretching a bit, cracking my neck. "We talked last week. He was a bit pricked by it, I could tell. Or he was annoyed that all of his friends were practically drooling all over me. Boys, men, whatever. They never change," I decided, wrinkling my nose.

"Oh, c'mon, Jay," said Sam as we walked over to the counter to pay for our meal. Well, as Sam paid for our meal. "You won't be saying that soon. Some gentleman will sweep you off your feet and I'll be threatening him with a shotgun in no time."

I scowled at my older brother and he gave me a cheeky smile as he handed the cashier a ten dollar bill to cover our payment. I folded my arms as the young girl dug Sam's change out of the register and looked around for my friend, who were still idly chatting up the two men from the Recruitment Center. Jane caught my eye and I jerked my head towards the door and she nodded, understanding the message. Satisfied, I looked back at Sam. "Isn't the threatening up to Dad?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, yeah, traditionally, but you also have four older brothers who aren't going to like the first guy you go steady with no matter what you say. And Henry probably isn't going to care, but just for kicks, I'll include him in the mix. Besides," said Sam as he pocketed his change with a quick thank you to the girl manning the register, "are you tryin' to tell me there was no special guy back at Harvard?"

Sam held the door for us as we stepped into the crisp winter night, the wind blowing softly, instantly chilling my ears. I subconsciously wrapped my arms tighter around my chest, trying to savor the warmth left from the inside of the diner. I shook my head a little as I spoke. "Nope," I said softly. "Nothin' like that. I had a few guy friends, but none of them met the standards, y'know?"

"I'm starting to think your standards are a bit unrealistic, Jay," laughed Sam as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

I shrugged a bit and pushed a dark curl behind my ear. "Maybe," I admitted. "But at least I'm not settling."

Sam wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me into a side-hug. I nuzzled up to my brother, letting his body heat mingle with mine, heating me back up just in the slightest. His hand rubbed up and down my arm, creating a bit of friction in an effort to warm me up. "And don't you dare even _think_ about settling for less than what you deserve, Adelyn Juliet," he muttered in my ear.

I smiled and didn't bother to respond as we crossed through the crosswalk back towards the Recruitment Center. We stopped at the door and I opened it before I turned to Sam, who had his eyes narrowed as he looked inside the building.

"How long until your shift is over?" he asked.

"About an hour or two. I'm letting Jane take the rest of it to get some extra hours to help pay off nursing school," I said.

"What about Lydia?"

"Paid for. Her parents are rich, you know," I pointed out. I shivered a bit as a chill swept through the cold afternoon air.

Sam nodded. "Alright. I'll pick you up at three? George wanted me to stop by the apartment and meet…uh, what was her name?"

"Sally," I supplied, making a face at the mention of her.

Sam laughed at my expression. "Oh, she can't be that bad, Jay."

"You haven't met her. Or eaten her cooking. Absolute rubbish. George is going to have to learn how to cook," I said, wrinkling my nose at the thought. "He'll burn the apartment down!"

"He will not. Besides, I'm sure Sally's cooking isn't that terrible."

"She burned spaghetti. How, Sam? How the hell do you burn spaghetti?!" I demanded, arms flailing to prove my point.

"Hey, whoa, language, there, spitfire!" said Sam between laughs as he tried to hold down my arms. "Alright, alright, I see your point. That's pretty bad."

By that time, I heard my name called by a feminine voice that was extremely familiar. I turned and saw Lydia, whose normally perfect blonde curls were all frazzled out of place. She was breathing a bit more heavily than usual, proving that, yeah, we all could probably use a bit of exercise. Her white hat was backwards, I assumed, with the red cross in the back and her left shoe was untied. "AJ! Hurry up, we've got more and more pouring in by the second!"

I looked out the door, to where Sam was standing. No one was trying to get in. I looked back at Lydia, an eyebrow raised slightly, a snarky comment on the edge of my tongue.

"Don't even say anything," she snapped, giving me a warning glare. "Just help me!"

I laughed a bit. "Alright, coming!" I looked back at Sam and gave him a warm smile before hugging him for a moment. "See you in two hours. Maybe pick up some dinner for George's so we don't have to eat Sally's cooking?" I said, gripping my brother's arms, giving him my best pair of puppy dog eyes.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll grab some takeout. Sound good?"

"Sounds _great_ ," I said enthusiastically and kissed him on the cheek. "Bye, Sam!"

"Bye, Jay," he said, ruffling my hair a bit before he left.

I yelped in indignation as I tried to fix the perfect curls that he'd ruined, and then turned and rushed back to the nurse's changing room where Lydia was waiting for me. "What have we got?" I asked, as I stripped off my winter coat leaving me in my nurse's uniform. I grabbed my hat from my locker and put it on my head before reaching out and fixing Lydia's as she spoke and handed me my clipboard.

"Doctor Paris has all these men for you. They've already been cleared and are in their rooms. Or, section of the room. Whatever, the curtains are there, you know the drill. Finish up these ones and then you're done."

I nodded, my eyes scanning down the names. There were about twenty-three, twenty-four all together and it wouldn't be too much of a challenge to bang out all of them in the two hours I had. I pulled a pen out my locker and looked at Lydia, giving her my trademark smirk. "Let's get to work."

* * *

Little had I known that it'd take me every second of those two hours to finish up. It wasn't a hard job, per se, but when the hopeful soon-to-be soldiers would never shut up about saving countless lives and being world renowned heroes, it got a tad old. I didn't understand their excitement. I understood the urge to help my country in its time of need, but I didn't get why so many men _wanted_ to go off to war.

My Uncle James had died in World War I and that had hit Dad hard. He hadn't been married so we received his belongings. Dad read through his journal that he kept the night that James's things had been returned to us. After reading it, he refused to let the rest of us even touch it, much less see it. It was why he had been so adamant on not letting West join the military. Whatever had been in that book had been awful enough for Dad to not be willing to send any of us off to help our country. Despite having not seen Dad since what happened to West, I knew he probably blamed himself.

And yet, here I was, amidst hundreds of men, chattering excitedly about killing Nazis and saving lives. I didn't have the heart to tell them that it wasn't that simple or that easy. Sure, it was tempting at times when they got on my nerves, but I was pretty sure that wouldn't be the best morale booster. And if the United States needed anything, especially after Pearl Harbor, it was a morale boost.

So I did my job as the rest of the nurses did. With a smile, listening to the soldiers as they rambled, whether from nerves or just to boast, but we didn't shoot them down. I even put up with their God forsaken flirting, which was really grating on me. I'd always stood by the statement that men are pigs and now that I was an army nurse, that opinion definitely wasn't going to change any time soon. My patience was wearing thin with the really hoggish men and I was bound to start snarking off at any given moment.

I was on my second to last man when my patience snapped for the night.

"Well, you're looking all good, Mr. Kelley," I said with a forced smile. Dave Kelley hadn't been a particularly bad one, compared to some others in the past two hours. He had to just be twenty years old, his round face bright and straw colored hair too floppy for my liking. His eyes lit up when I gave him my assessment.

"So I'm clear then?" he asked, eyes wide.

I nodded, my fake smile sliding off my face as I looked at the next name on my list, checking off Kelley's name. "I'll walk you out," I said without looking up.

I walked the young man to the waiting area, where he turned to me, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "So, uh, Ms. Frost—"

I looked up and smiled sweetly, "Dave?"

"Yeah?" he asked, his eyes meeting mine for a moment before diverting elsewhere.

I already knew what was coming. The question I'd already gotten countless times that night. The dreadful _Will you see me off_ or _Will I see you again_? "I think we both know what I'm going to say."

Mr. Kelley hung his head slightly. "Yeah, I figured. Thank you, though, Ms. Frost."

"Of course, Mr. Kelley. Have a nice night."

"You as well, ma'am," he said before he turned and left, stepping into the cold, wintery air of New York City.

I checked my clipboard for my next patient. "Frank Jackson!" I called.

Heads all swiveled towards me as I called out the name. The waiting room stank of sweat and testosterone and I sincerely hoped this Frank would show his face sometime soon. I didn't like the way that all the men were staring at me like I was a fresh grilled piece of meat. It wasn't only demeaning, but it was just plain embarrassing.

Just then, I saw a young man, no more than twenty-five, lunge forward, still pulling up his pants as he hopped towards me. He was handsome, with blond hair and chocolate brown eyes were _very_ inviting. He tugged on his white shirt as he reached me, just narrowly covering his mildly defined stomach and chest muscles. He was definitely one of the more attractive men I'd seen in the Recruiting Center today. That was usually ruined though, as soon as they opened their mouth, and I'd learned to not be too hopeful. Not only was it a bad idea, but it was against a nurse's code of conduct to get too close to a patient or a soldier. A rule I wholeheartedly agreed with.

"Frank Jackson, Ms…" Frank left the sentence hang as he extended a hand.

"Frost. Nurse Frost," I said, giving his hand a firm shake. I turned, gesturing back in the room I'd just been in. "We'll be in room twelve, if you could just—"

I broke off as I watched two men begin to leave. One was much taller than the other, with dark hair, but I hadn't gotten a good enough look at his face. The other couldn't have been taller than me. He was very thin, _extremely_ thin, so much so that it looked dangerous for his health. His hair was short and blond and I got a glimpse of his defeated face before he turned to head for the door. The taller man's arm was wrapped around his shoulders and he was leaning down slightly so he could speak in the smaller man's ear. Something shiny caught my eye, and I glanced toward the seats where the two men had been previously occupying. There was a golden cross necklace there, bunched up.

I looked at my patient, Frank, and smiled apologetically. "A moment please?"

He nodded at me and smiled, his teeth a brilliant white, almost blinding me. "Of course. Do what you have to, ma'am."

I was a bit taken aback by the young man's manners, but I shook my head, making my way to the chair, picking up the necklace. "Excuse me!" I called out. "Sirs! Excuse me!"

The two stopped and turned to look at me as the taller one was opening the door. I made eye contact with him and couldn't help the little hitch in my throat. He was _definitely_ the most attractive man to ever grace this floor, I decided. His dark hair was slicked back and his razor sharp jawline was clean shaven. A lazy grin had spread across his face when he saw me and my hopes were instantly dashed. I _knew_ that lazy grin. That was the lazy grin of a man that never got denied, never got turned down. He had probably never heard a woman say _no_ to him in his life. If he tried anything, he was about to get a wakeup call, no matter how good-looking he was.

Instead of looking at the decidedly handsome man, I diverted my eyes to his companion. He stood at my height of five-feet-four-inches, at my eye's level. His mousy blond hair was also styled carefully, but not with nearly as much gel. His face was narrow and his thin frame rattled with every breath he took. As I got closer, I noted the slight wheeze on his inhale. Asthma, I decided, and if that wasn't what had gotten him denied, it could have been a million other things. The poor guy looked downright sickly.

"Excuse me, but I believe one of you dropped this at your seat," I said kindly, holding the golden chain out to the shorter man.

His eyes grew wide and a bony hand flew to his neck, where the necklace was not. He met my gaze, relief spreading across his features, a grateful smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you, ma'am. I think you just, uh, you just saved me from a heart attack later."

I laughed a bit and winked. "That your girl's?"

The small man blushed heavily, spreading from his neck right up to the tips of his cheekbones. "Uh, no, my mom's actually. She passed away a little over five years ago."

The smile instantly vanished from my face. "I'm sorry to hear that," I said seriously. "That must be awful."

"Aw, shucks, it ain't so bad." A look of horror began to spread across his face when he seemed to register what he said. "I-I mean, it was terrible at first. I missed her a lot. Still do But I mean I have Buck here and he takes care of me, y'know?" he said hastily as he hit the taller man on the chest.

I let my eyes travel back to the other man for the first time since I began talking to the small man, who I decided that I liked. There was something about him that was friendly, something you didn't see with a lot of men. Or something _I_ didn't usually see with a lot of men. The other man raised an eyebrow, his lazy grin never faltering. "So, darlin'," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels, "you come here often?"

The small man looked at his companion in utter terror. "Buck!" he groaned, "We've talked about this!"

"What, Steve?" the tall man—Buck—said adamantly. "I'm just tryin' to have some fun." He looked back at me. "Well?"

I rolled my eyes at his horrid attempt at a pickup line. Seriously, that was a weak attempt if I'd ever heard one, given that I was dressed head to toe in my army nurse uniform holding a clipboard. Was he really that stupid? "Well," I said slowly, "I do work here. So, yes, I'm here quite often."

My dry humor didn't seem to faze Buck and the lazy grin that was becoming _very_ irritating _very_ quickly was starting to get on my nerves. He swung his hand out to me. "James Barnes. But you, doll," he said as he winked at me, "Can call me Bucky." He ruffled the smaller man's mousy blond hair. "And this here is Steve."

Steve, who had been chuckling in apparent awe at my flippant reaction to Bucky—No, _James'_ —flirting, squawked as his taller companion mussed up his hair. "Hey! I can take care of myself just fine." Once he'd smoothed down his hair, he offered me a small wave and an apologetic smile. "Steve Rogers."

"Right," I said, fixing my eyes on Steve, not wanting to give James the satisfaction of my attention. "It was fantastic to meet you boys, but I really must get back to work."

I turned to go, but James's voice called out, "Hey, wait!"

I looked over my shoulder as I came to a stop. "Yes?"

"Usually when someone introduces themselves, darlin', you do them the favor of responding in kind," he said, the lazy smile taunting me, and seeming to begin to look dangerously arrogant in my eyes.

"Well, you are usually correct in that assessment, Mr. Barnes," I said sweetly, "but only when it's your business. Which my name happens to be none of yours. Good day to you both."

I began walking back to Frank, well aware of my hips sashaying confidently, taunting James. I could hear Steve as he laughed loudly behind me and his chuckle got quieter as the door opened and the two men left, James, I figured, dragging Steve behind him.

Frank raised an eyebrow at me, an impressed grin gracing his well-defined features. "Remind me to not get on your bad side," he chuckled.

"Well, it's not hard," I said, "just don't be an arrogant ass."

Frank snorted. "Noted. After you, Ms. Frost?" He extended an arm back to my examination room.

I curtsied just to entertain the man. "Why, thank you Mr. Jackson. Right this way." And I led Frank off to the exam room.


	3. Chapter Two

**Author's Note:** Aaaaaand here's three. I dunno, doods, I have a good feeling about this story. It's really coming along for me. I typed out a timeline the other night so I have a general idea of how things are going to be spaced out. This is more planning than I've ever actually put into a fic, it's incredible. I feel prepared, which _never_ happens. On another note, I hope you all enjoy how I'm portraying this. This is my first female OC that I decided to actually write out. I know, I know, male OCs are my thing because they're so under appreciated, but I _really_ like Bucky Barnes. My bad. On a lighter note, I'm debating (and by debating I mean DEBATE, you don't have to worry about me abandoning this fic any time soon) is a brand new Natasha/OC fic, or maybe a Wanda/OC. So yeah, all those ideas are flying right now, but this is the one lucky enough to go on paper (on screen, whatever).

So as usual, favorite, follow, and review please. On that same note, I've only gotten two reviews on this here work, and that's like, telling me _nothing_. I dunno if y'all who are reading this just aren't usual reviews, but if you wanna do me a solid and drop one here and there (that has actual content and not just 'great chapter'), it'd be greatly appreciated. First reviewer gets to name Sam's baby. Or something. PLEASE JUST REVIEW, K THANKS.

 **Rating:** T for swearing and violence.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Captain America. If I did, Bucky Barnes would not be in Cryostasis.

 **Editing:** All editing it done by me, all mistakes are mine.

 **Face Claim:** Sophia Bush (like, _One Tree Hill_ days).

* * *

 _Chapter Two_

 **December 25, 1941 – Steve's Apartment: Bucky's POV**

 _Cherry red lips. Dark brown curls. Striking green eyes. Mole on the right cheek. Cherry red lips. Dark brown curls. Striking green eyes. Mole on the right cheek._

Bucky's eyes narrowed in concentration as he started his drawing. _Cherry red lips. Dark brown curls. Striking green—_

" _Buck_!"

Something hit Bucky's forehead and Bucky let out a yelp. "Ouch! What the hell was that for?!"

Bucky's best friend, Steve, was sitting on the couch, the looks of a smirk playing on his lips. He was holding a partially peeled orange in his hand. Part of the orange rind was sitting, rocking back and forth on Bucky's blank piece of paper.

"You're thinking about that dame again, aren't ya? I've been calling your name for the past five minutes," said Steve, amusement plain in his voice. He kept peeling his orange as he looked at Bucky knowingly.

Bucky scowled and threw down his pencil. "Is it that obvious?"

"Not really," said Steve as he chewed on an orange slice that he'd pulled free. "Other than the fact that you were muttering something about cherry red lips and dark brown curls under your breath and you _never_ draw, and yet here you are, trying."

Bucky sighed and leaned back in his chair in defeat as Steve laughed, getting pelted with another piece of the orange rind. It was Christmas Day. Bucky had slept over at Steve's that night and woke up to Steve's fantastic pancakes, which the two had scrounged up just enough money to buy the ingredients for.

The two exchanged presents after breakfast. Bucky had gotten Steve a new sketchpad and a collection of colored pencils that had taken him a month's worth of wages to save up for. Steve had gotten Bucky a brand new baseball glove, which he sorely needed. And then there the two of them were, lunch time approaching, Steve eating an orange and Bucky pitifully trying to draw the nurse from the Recruitment Center last afternoon.

It was _Christmas Day_ and Bucky was in a slump, pining over a girl he didn't even know the name of. He vaguely wondered if this was how girls felt when he left in the mornings after a one night stand. If it was, it hurt and he suddenly realized why girls got so offended by such things. Of course, this woman hadn't slept with him and then left, but the tight pain and annoyance in his chest sure gave Bucky the same impression. She'd turned him _down_ , for Christ's sake. _Him._ James Buchanan Barnes.

He scowled as he looked down at his blank piece of paper, eraser marks all over it, marking up the otherwise clean sheet. He couldn't start off the drawing correctly, no matter how hard he tried, and for once, Bucky was jealous of Steve and his natural affinity for drawing.

Closing his eyes, Bucky tried to envision the girl one more time.

* * *

 _"Excuse me! Sirs! Excuse me!"_

 _Bucky frowned and looked at Steve, who shared the same expression. The two turned around, catching a glance of the dark haired woman who was rushing towards them. Bucky's gaze instantly zeroed in on her, his eyebrows rising slightly. He had always been one for brunettes, but she was one of the loveliest women Bucky had ever laid eyes on._

 _Her dark curls fell free around her shoulders, bouncing slightly as she hurried towards them. She was a tad pale, her dark brown tresses and vibrant cherry red lipstick a violent contrast compared to her skin tone. Her face was narrow, with high cheekbones, and a soft jawline. She was dressed in the usual white army nurse's uniform, her white hat tipping slightly on her head. A mole, not like that of a witch, but akin to a singular freckle sat on her right cheek, near and nearly aligned with the center of her nose. As she got closer, her eyes met Bucky's and he was struck by not only how green her eyes were, but by the ring of dark gold that surrounded her irises. She was absolutely stunning and it took all of Bucky's willpower to not let his jaw drop to the ground._

 _As soon as he gathered his wits, Bucky let loose his trademark lazy grin that usually had girls everywhere falling all over him. But as soon as she saw it, she directed her attention to Steve, which had nearly blown Bucky out of the water. He wasn't deterred though; Bucky Barnes didn't give up without a fight._

 _But whenever she gave him an attitude and told him in a slow voice, as if he was entirely stupid, that yes, she didn't indeed come to the Recruitment Center often, being that she worked there, it was then that Bucky knew she was different. Admittedly, Bucky knew as soon as the cheesy pickup line left his mouth, that he'd made a dire mistake. Even Steve had been snorting off to the side, knowing how terrible it sounded._

 _Bucky wasn't worried though as he forged ahead, introducing himself and Steve to the gorgeous woman, hoping to at least get a name._

 _It was when he didn't even get her_ name _that Bucky Barnes knew he was in massive trouble._

* * *

Bucky blew out a breath and opened his eyes, pushing himself to his feet. "I'm going to the grocery store. Pick up an apple pie. I think we deserve this one, Stevie." He took one last long glance at the blank page before turning to slide on his winter coat.

"Buck."

Bucky turned as he flopped his collar down to look at his best friend. "Yeah?"

Steve shrugged at him, a glint in his eyes. "It's one dame, Buck. Not the end of the world." He chuckled, albeit a tad weakly. "It's not exactly like you have a small selection."

Bucky knew Steve was right. Heck, he knew he shouldn't be complaining, especially to Steve. He'd tried to set up his friend on countless double dates, and they all ended the same way. Steve sitting uncomfortably as both women fawned over Bucky. His friend had had his fair share of misfortune when it came to girls. He felt a tad bit guilty for being so screwed up over being denied once by a woman he barely knew, but he couldn't help it. Bucky Barnes wasn't used to rejection.

Bucky sighed. "Yeah, I know. Thanks, Steve. You want anything while I'm out?"

"Nah, I'm okay," said Steve, who had diverted his eyes from Bucky's and was now focused on his orange, peeling it with such intense concentration that Bucky had half a mind that it'd unpeel itself.

"Alright. Lock the door for me, I'll be back in twenty."

"Gotcha."

Bucky left the small apartment, closing the door softly as his mind somehow managed to drift its way back to the nameless nurse. Bucky sighed. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Back inside, Steve had gotten up from his position on the couch and moved to where Bucky had been sitting and flipped over the sheet to clean side, free of eraser marks. He looked at the select few colored pencils that Bucky had chosen other than the sketch pencil. Red, brown, and green. _Lips, hair, and eyes_ , Steve recited in his head.

"What had Buck been saying?" muttered Steve to himself as he began to draw the basis of the unknown nurse's head, his orange laying off to the side, forgotten. "It was…what was it…" Steve paused his drawing for a moment.

He looked at the rough estimate of the woman's head shape, thoroughly pleased with how it had turned out when the four descriptions hit him.

"Cherry red lips, dark brown curls, striking green eyes, mole on the right cheek. Cherry red lips, dark brown curls, striking green eyes, mole on the right cheek." Steve repeated the descriptive words over and over again in his head until he fell into a silent rhythm with himself, drawing and sketching the woman as well as he could with the only photograph of her he had imprinted in his memory. "Buck's damn lucky I'm such a nice guy," he muttered as he continued to draw, picking up the red pencil to start the woman's full, red lips and facial features.

 _Cherry red lips. Dark brown curls. Striking green eyes. Mole on the right cheek._

* * *

 **December 26, 1941 – The Laundromat: AJ's POV**

I finished putting my clothes in the dryer and inserted a quarter. After deciding the best cycle for my nurse's uniform, I pressed the button, letting the machine begin to spin. I had been lucky enough to get off the day after Christmas, since too many had taken off Christmas Day and Doctor Paris was down a few girls. He offered me today off in exchange, which I gladly accepted. After all, my shifts weren't long and I'd still had time to meet up with Sam again and go shopping for Dougie's birthday.

It was late at night, almost nine o'clock. Outside, the sky was dark, the only light offered by the yellowish tint of the streetlights. Snow blew wildly across the sidewalk outside and a shiver rushed through my body at the thought of walking back outside. My apartment building was only across the street, but I still didn't want to. It was going to be incredibly cold, the temperatures reaching the low-twenties. I also wasn't a particular fan of walking in the darkness. I didn't have an affinity for kidnapping.

I sighed and checked the clock on the wall. 8:59PM. I had about forty-five minutes until my clothes would be done, but I was half-tempted to leave them there until morning. I probably would end up doing so as well; I was quite tired and didn't feel like staying up much later. My shift started the next morning at seven o'clock sharp and I hated being late. I also hated getting less than eight hour of sleep, which I wouldn't be getting if I stayed up.

Cursing lowly, saying a few words I _know_ my mother wouldn't approve of, I wrenched open the door to the Laundromat and stepped into the frigid winter wind. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, burying my face a bit deeper into my scarf. The icy breeze nipped at any exposed skin and I could already feel my forehead starting to numb. Growling, I slipped my uncovered fingers from my pocket and slid my hat lower down on my head, hating my decision to not wear gloves. A horrible choice, really.

I had just started to cross the deserted road when a car pulled out of an alleyway just a bit down the road and started my direction. The headlights momentarily blinded me, but I ducked my head down and continued across the street, ignoring the spike of fear that shot through me. It was late to be driving, especially in nasty weather like such. I knew I was being irrational to some degree. I was _fine_.

Or so I thought.

The car stopped behind me as I hit the other side of the sidewalk. I increased my pace slightly, but only slightly because the cement was slippery from the ice and I didn't want to risk slipping and falling. When I heard the door to the vehicle open, all reason for caution abandoned me. I started to break into a sprint when a bag covered my head and a pair of arms slipped around me: one holding my arms down to keep me from thrashing, the other covering my mouth so I couldn't scream.

Despite their efforts, I kicked and screamed as best I could against whoever was trying to kidnap me. There must have been two or three men because the next time I kicked, someone caught my legs and held them tightly, tying them together. Another did the same with my hands. I was forced into the backseat of the vehicle as I screamed bloody murder and the door shut on my yells, which had been lost in the icy winter wind anyway.

The car began pulling away from the curb and I stopped screaming when I realized it was no use. Tears were starting to slip down my cheeks, but I set my jaw. I was _not_ going to be weak in this situation. I couldn't afford to be. I quieted my hiccups and low cries and focused on the turns the vehicle was making, memorizing them to the best of my ability.

The car was completely and utterly silent except for the hum of the engine and my occasional hiccup. No one was speaking and it was kind of starting to freak me out. Not that I already wasn't freaked out from the fact that I was being kidnapped, but the whole silence thing just added to my pure-blooded terror.

After what could have been hours, or it could have been mere minutes, the car came to a stop. However long it had been, it still felt like an eternity to me. My car door was wrenched open and I was pulled roughly out and stood up on the ground, my feet crunching in the snow. I felt the restraints on my legs loosen and whatever had been constricting them was pulled away a moment later. A hand on the small of my back shoved me forward. I stumbled a bit before I caught my footing and began walking.

Before I got very far, two hands landed on my shoulders, stopping me. I heard the sound of a door open and a rough, calloused hand grasped my own. I fought the urge to pull away as my captor raised my hand, leading me forward a bit. I understood his meaning a moment later, lifting my left foot a tad higher as I took my next step. I had been correct as my foot landed not on ground, but tile flooring, my shoes squeaking a bit with the wetness of the melted snow.

I was led into what I could only assume was an elevator as I stood still, well aware of my captors with me, feeling as gravity shifted as we moved upwards. After a few painful seconds of listening to horrible elevator music with my kidnappers, the doors slid open with a ding. The kidnappers led me to another door, I assumed, when I heard a key slide into a lock and the door open with a click.

As soon as the door shut behind me, the black bag was removed from my head, my eyes starting to adjust to the bright lighting in the room and then whatever was binding my hands was cut from my wrists. I blinked a few times as my pupils dilated, my gaze focusing on a dark haired man standing in the middle of the room.

My two captors had moved away from me, towards the kitchen area of the small apartment that I was confined to. It was sparsely furnished and it was by no means in livable condition, but I supposed I had just been kidnapped. Five star accommodations weren't exactly to be expected.

The yellow-tinted lights were all on in the small room and when my eyes had finally adjusted enough that I could see well, I finally realized who was standing in the middle of the room, looking at me intently. I almost didn't believe it until he spoke, his smooth voice, sliding across my ears like I'd heard on televisions sets so many times before.

"You know, on that podium when you spoke at your graduation, you looked…taller."

Before me was Howard Stark, genius inventor and renowned playboy to all women everywhere. If I had been Lydia or Jane, I would have fainted on the spot. I was suddenly thankful for my immunity to arrogant boyish charm. It seemed to be coming in handy lately, like with that soldier from the Recruitment Center. James. James Barnes, had been his name. Bucky.

Stark was dressed impeccably in his black pants and shirt with the white vest and black suede shoes. His dark hair was carefully slicked back, much like James's only two days earlier. His moustache had been recently trimmed and his trademark playboy smirk played on his lips. In his left hand he held a thick manila folder tucked under his arm and in his right, a glass of liquor, neat, that he took a sip from as his dark brown eyes traveled me up and down.

I glanced at his two companions, who had filled themselves their own glass, a look of amusement shining on their hardened features.

"Okay…" I said, taking a deep breath, "What the hell?! You were at my graduation?!"

Stark finished off his drink with a singular raised eyebrow and moseyed over to the countertop where he set the glass down. "Usually that's not the first response I get when most women see me."

"I'm not most women," I countered, my eyes flashing. "You just kidnapped me for God's sake, what did you expect? Me to throw myself at you like some cheap show girl?"

"Hey!" Stark snapped. "My show girls are not cheap. And," he shrugged, "an engineer can only hope."

My eyes rolled so hard, I thought they'd fall out of my head. "So, what do I owe the pleasure, _Mr. Stark_?"

Stark looked at me critically and looked at one of his companions. "Is she giving me an attitude? I think so. What do you think, Vinnie?"

One of the brick walls of a man, Vinnie, shrugged, "I think that's sarcasm, boss," he confirmed.

"Right, sarcasm. I suppose I deserve it, don't I?" Stark offered an apologetic half-smile.

"You did kidnap me while I was trying to do my laundry," I pointed out, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Right." Stark swallowed, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Well, it's not like I could just go see you on a normal day. The press would eat that up, especially with my reputation with women. I had to talk to you but…inconspicuously."

"You know, my landline's in the phonebook," I drawled, raising an eyebrow, "You could have just called to arrange a meeting."

"Uh, yeah, but, uh, what fun is that? Never mind," Stark waved his hand aside. "We have things to talk about, Ms. Frost."

"I take it you know me," I noted.

Stark took a seat on the moth-eaten couch across the living area and looked at me conspiratorially. "Yeah, something like that. Come on, sit down, we have a lot to discuss."

I moved over to his location, my arms never uncrossing, and I didn't sit down. "I think I'd rather stand."

Stark scowled at me and stood back up, shifting the manila folder under his arm. I caught a glance of a black stamp on the front, but I couldn't quite make out the figure. "Fine, but that means we both have to stand."

I creased my eyebrows in question.

"It's awkward if one sits and one stands, I don't know," Stark waved the thought aside, "Anyhow. Yes, I do know you, Ms. Frost. In fact, I know a lot about you." He began to pace as he spoke. "Born Adelyn Juliet Frost on February 14, 1918. Your dad's a factory worker in Manhattan and your mom used to work at one of the local shirtwaist companies. You have five brothers and you're the second youngest of all of them, but the most intelligent. You graduated high school at age sixteen, got your bachelor's at twenty, masters at twenty-one, and your doctorate last year from Harvard University for biochemistry. You enlisted to help with the army in their field nursing programs and have been doing so ever since. How am I doing so far, Ms. Frost?"

My jaw had merely dropped as he continued to rattle off facts about my life that not many people knew, much less that I thought _Howard Stark_ would know. I wasn't exactly an open person. "How-How do you know all of that?"

Stark set the manila file on the countertop and looked at me, spreading his arms wide. "I didn't do all the research; I'm just here to recruit and convince you come aboard our little project. Your personal stalker that managed to dig up all that would be one Colonel Chester Phillips. He pulled a few military favors."

But I had stopped listening after Stark said the word 'recruit' _._ "Recruit? Recruit me for what?"

"And that, darling, is the million dollar question." Stark slid the file off of the desk and handed it to me. The folder was at least a half of an inch thick, filled with handwritten and typed documents and packets alike. The seal on the front of the file that I'd caught a glimpse of earlier was prominent now against the tan exterior. It was an eagle, its wings spread, the three letters 'SSR' in a shield shaped symbol on the eagle's chest. On the line at the bottom of the file marked 'topic', two words were scrawled there in messy handwriting with black marker. 'Project Rebirth.'

"The 'SSR'?" I asked. " 'Project Rebirth?' What is all of this?"

Stark clapped his hands and folded himself into a seated position on the couch. " _This_ is where you might want to sit down," he said, gesturing at the seat beside him.

I sat down as he looked over to his two companions, who were still watching us intently. "You know, you two can leave now," said Howard.

One of them—Vinnie—opened his mouth, but Stark cut him off, "I'll transfer the money to your bank accounts, don't worry about it."

Vinnie looked dubiously at his partner, but they both shrugged and Vinnie looked back at us. "Noon tomorrow," he said, a hint of a warning lacing the undertones of his voice.

"Noon tomorrow," Stark agreed.

The two men set their glasses in the sink and were gone a moment later.

"So those guys were…" I prompted.

"Actual convicts, yes, but!" he cut me off at my look of horror, "But I was paying them enough that they wouldn't have harmed you! It was perfectly safe!"

"Right!" I squeaked my voice coming out an octave higher than usual, "Perfectly safe."

"Anyway, the SSR." Stark opened took the manila file gingerly from my hands and set it on the coffee table before us. He opened it and took out a photo of a man. He was in a standard army uniform with a patch on his shoulder. It was a skull with tentacles curling out around it. The man's hair was styled back, his head was a tad long, and his beady eyes made me uneasy, whether it was a mere photograph or not. "Have you ever seen this man?"

I shook my head.

"Or that symbol?" Howard pointed to the skull and tentacles.

I shook my head once more.

"Good. You don't want to. Unfortunately though, you're about to."

I glared half-heartedly at Howard but it didn't faze him.

"That's Johann Schmidt. He runs the Nazi deep science division called HYDRA. Or at least, it was Nazi affiliated. HYDRA seems to be separating further and further from Nazi agenda as of late. A lot of people don't know it exists. Hell, a lot of soldiers out there preparing don't know it exists. Point is, they're dangerous and they have weaponry capable of taking down not only the Allies, but the Axis Powers as well. They tried to kill me last year, in fact. It's when I joined the SSR."

"And that is…?" I asked, trying to absorb all the information that was being handed to me.

"SSR stands for Strategic Scientific Reserve. It's a top secret Allied war agency formed by President Roosevelt to fight HYDRA specifically. Your stalker, Colonel Chester Phillips? He's the leader of this whole thing. So far, it consists of Phillips, me, a German scientist, and a British spy."

"A German scientist?!" I hissed. And then in a more confused tone, "And a British spy?"

Howard shook his head. Apparently, somewhere in the time that we'd been speaking, I'd started referring to him as 'Howard' in my head. Weird. I shook my head, focusing on the genius as he continued to explain. "Doctor Abraham Erskine. He was recruited by Hitler to make him an army, but lucky for us, Erskine doesn't share a Nazi viewpoint. He's a nice guy, our lead man on Project Rebirth. And the British spy is Peggy Carter. Reminds me of you actually, but with more…physical strength. Brilliant woman. Doesn't take shit from anyone."

I smiled a bit at Howard and he grinned back. Despite what I'd heard in the tabloids, I liked Howard Stark. He was pretty down-to-earth so far, but part of me also figured it was because he was talking to me on behalf of government business. He'd probably get his ass kicked if he wasn't professional.

"So, you've mentioned this 'Project Rebirth' a couple times. What's that?"

"That's the icing on the cake, Ms. Frost."

"Please, you've already kidnapped me and held me against my will. Call me AJ," I quipped.

Howard grinned back. "You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"On the off-chance that I do accept this proposal, no, no I won't," I replied with a cheeky grin.

"Whatever, Ms. F—AJ," he corrected himself. "So, Project Rebirth. It's what the SSR is centered around. Our main focal point to take down HYDRA." Howard shifted himself on the couch a tad so he was facing me a bit more, his elbows resting on his knees.

"November of last year, Doctor Erskine, the German doc I told you about, was kidnapped by Johann Schmidt. For the last year or so, Erskine had been working on some type of super serum. To make a human the best human alive. Peak physical condition. The perfect human being. Well Old Schmiddy found out. He forced the good doc to use his incomplete serum on him. Well, afterwards, Erskine was rescued by Agent Carter and they escaped Schmiddy. But Schmidt," Howard paused as he pulled another picture from the file, this one colorized, "became this."

I stared in horror at the page. It was the same man, all right, with the high cheekbones and beady eyes, but his normal skin was _gone_. His hair as well. His entire face and neck were blood red.

"As you can see, Doc's serum isn't quite yet perfected. And we now call Old Schmiddy the Red Skull."

"Gee," I said in mock surprise, "I wonder how you guys came up with that one."

Howard rolled his eyes. "Right, right, laugh it up now, but Schmidt's no joke. He's incredibly dangerous. For the most part, Erskine's serum worked. He's faster, stronger, better than ever. Just…a bit more red than we'd like for our soldiers."

" _Our_ soldiers?" I demanded.

Howard exhaled and threaded his fingers together. " _That's_ what Project Rebirth is. Perfecting Erskine's serum. Making the perfect super soldier to help fight against HYDRA. Using the perfected serum and Vita rays from the Vita chamber, we can create the most elite soldier to ever grace this planet. Better than even Schmidt."

"So what do you need me for?" I asked, even though I had a sinking feeling I already knew the answer.

"We need your knowledge of biochemistry to help perfect the serum. Erskine's a geneticist. He just needs a bit of your guidance and we'll be golden!"

"So, to sum things up," I said slowly, "you want me to join a top secret organization that consists of you, some army colonel, a German geneticist, and a British spy to help perfect a serum that turned an evil madman into an evil, _ugly_ madman to inject into our own soldiers and _hope_ that they don't turn out like Old Schmiddy?"

Howard frowned at me. "When you put it that way, it sounds terrible."

I shrugged. "Yeah, kinda."

Howard shook his head, turning his body more towards me. "Think about it, AJ. The Nazis are enough of a force to reckon with without adding HYDRA to the mix. Honestly, I think HYDRA is more dangerous than Hitler and his Nazis. We need to fight back. We need soldiers strong enough to fight back. Even if it's just one, it's enough.

"Look, I'm not here to force you to do anything. The colonel said you had a choice. You can walk away now as long as you don't breathe a word of this to anyone, and we'll trust you not to. Or, you can have a chance to be a part of this. A chance to stop HYDRA and save the world. Isn't this what you were talking about in your speech, AJ?" Howard's voice had gone soft. "A chance to make a difference?"

I made the mistake of meeting his eyes. They were big and brown and pleading, just like my childhood dog, Piston, a golden lab who had died when I was just twelve. Howard's expression was akin somewhat to a begging puppy and I knew at that moment he had me hooked.

Not _just_ because of the puppy dog eyes, but because he was right. I finally had a chance to make a difference in the world, to be a part of something huge, something bigger than myself. Howard certainly didn't seem like bad company either; I wasn't exactly gaining in the friend department. I had Jane and Lydia, but they were girls and girls would be girls. It would be nice to get away from it, I supposed.

I swallowed slightly. "What about my job? My friends, my family?"

Howard scoffed. "We aren't leaving the city. Tomorrow, if you like and agree, I can show you where Erskine and I are working. It's just in the city, actually. You don't have to quit your job, I'll just pull a few favors with Phillips and have your shifts shortened so you can work with us during the nights. As for your family though…they can't know a thing. Understand?"

"Understood," I said with an affirmative nod.

Howard's face brightened considerably and a broad grin broke out across his face. "Does that mean you're in?"

I took a deep breath. I wasn't quite sure what I was about to get myself into, but Howard Stark of all people needed my help. The _world_ needed my help. And I wasn't going to let them down.

"I'm in."


	4. Chapter Three

**Author's Note:** This one's a bit short compared to the others, but it gets the point across. I'm too busy for an in-depth AN, so enjoy! Please favorite, follow, and review if you feel so inclined!

 **Rating:** T for swearing and violence.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Captain America. If I did, Bucky Barnes would not be in Cryostasis.

 **Editing:** All editing it done by me, all mistakes are mine.

 **Face Claim:** Sophia Bush (like, _One Tree Hill_ days).

* * *

 _Chapter Three_

 **March 2, 1942 – Prospect Park, New York City, New York**

It was warm for March in New York City that day. Almost seventy degrees, rain drizzling lazily all over the town. The sky was gray, but there was light behind the clouds, signaling that yes, the sun was up there somewhere. I felt a bit overdressed with my rain jacket on, but I didn't feel like soaking head to toe, which was a weak excuse, considering the rain was barely coming down.

Beside me walked Frank Jackson, who had just gotten back last week from basic training in Fort Bragg, North Carolina. I wasn't sure how it happened or how he found me, but we'd been spending quite a bit of time together since he got back. He'd showed up last Monday on the door step of the Recruitment Center in his army formal wear, looking handsomer than ever. I found myself agreeing to a date for the first time ever, which I knew was a bad decision.

Frank had informed me on everything that had happened in the past three months that he'd been gone. He'd be joining the 67th Infantry Regiment in the 9th Infantry Division. His lieutenant was apparently a big brute of a man who didn't take anyone's crap. Frank had been directly promoted to corporal by his staff sergeant and he really liked to show off his badge. They were being deployed in November to North Africa. Thousands of miles away.

I wasn't sure why that bothered me. He was a soldier. Soldiers got deployed. It wasn't like it was uncommon. Still, though, it rubbed me the wrong way.

We had just finished dinner and Frank was walking me home, back to my apartment in Brooklyn. It had been our fourth date in the past week. I wasn't used to spending that much time with a guy that wasn't my brother. It was odd, but I definitely didn't mind it.

I wasn't exactly sure how I felt about Frank. He was a sweet guy and very attractive, but he was my first date. My _very_ first date, ever. I didn't know what to make of all of the emotions that were rolling around inside of me like a kaleidoscope while I was around him. On the other hand, he was the first guy that met all of my standards, and that had to count for something. Manners were a rarity to find and Frank was one of the few men I'd ever met that possessed them. He didn't treat me like a piece of meat, but as a human, and I wasn't sure if what I felt toward him for that was graciousness or attraction.

On the other hand, I supposed I had time to figure it out.

"AJ?"

"Hm?" I looked at Frank and it took me a second to realize we were no longer in Prospect Park. Cars rumbled down the road of the inner city and familiar buildings surrounded me. We were on the steps to my apartment building.

Frank smiled at me, all brilliant white teeth. He raked his hand through his blond hair, his gaze never breaking from mine. "We're, uh, we're back at your place."

"I noticed," I drawled.

Frank's expression seemed to turn a bit sheepish and his neck flushed a bit. "Right, so you have," he said. An awkward silence ensued, and it was the first time that it ever had between us. Frank and I just clicked, so I wasn't used to the strange quiet that enveloped us.

"So, listen, Adelyn, I've been meaning to ask you somethin'—"

"Whoa, hold up, take a step back there, cowboy," I interrupted, holding a hand up.

Frank froze, midsentence, his mouth hanging open. "Yeah?"

"Did you just call me 'Adelyn'?" I asked, a laugh bubbling up in my throat.

Frank's blush grew deeper, a shade of red so dark, that it contrasted violently with his olive drab shirt, making him look like an off-color Christmas tree. "Um, yeah, I-I guess I did. Is that alright?"

I was a bit caught off-guard by his response. _No one_ called me 'Adelyn' unless it was my parents and they were angry at me. And then after that would follow 'Juliet' and then I _really_ knew I was in trouble. I knitted my eyebrows together and cocked my head at Frank. "Um, sure, if you want, I mean."

Frank visibly relaxed, but only slightly. "Oh, good. Okay, so like I was saying, I've been meaning to ask you something." He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, wringing his hands.

Oh no. I _knew_ that expression. It was the same one I'd wore before my graduation speech. The same hand wringing and nervous throat clearing. Frank was about to give me a speech. And I had a feeling that this wasn't going to be a speech I was ready to hear.

"So, we've spent quite a bit of time together these past two weeks, and I've had a great time with you, Adelyn. You're everything my mama told me to look for in a girl. Pretty, intelligent, with a dash of dry humor. 'That's what you want, Frankie,' she used to say. 'Find one just like that and never let her go.' And I don't intend on letting you go."

I opened my mouth to interrupt, a heavy blush settling on my cheeks as I realized what he was insinuating, but Frank held a hand up.

"Just…just let me finish. I know we've only been seeing each other for the past couple weeks, but I feel like we've come a long way. You opened up to me, which something tells me you don't do often, especially with guys. I really, really like you, Adelyn. I've took a few women out on dates, but I've never really felt something like this with them. You're special, AJ. Special to me, whether you think so or not.

"So I wrestled with the idea of how to ask you this for the past day or so and this speech was what I came up with."

"What—"

Frank reached out and took my hand, kissing it softly, effectively silencing me. The most physical contact we'd ever had was holding hands in the park and a quick hug as we'd said goodbye. He close to me, closer than he'd ever been, a nervous smile playing across his lips. "So, Adelyn Juliet Frost…will you go steady with me?"

I was stunned. I'd never even been on a single date before Frank, much less _go steady_ with anyone. Did he realize what he was asking me? To actually _date_ -date him? Exclusively? I grasped for words to say, something, anything, but nothing was coming to mind. My thought process had shut down. I know it was stupid, it wasn't like he was asking me to marry him, but for little innocent me, he might as well have been.

I didn't get a chance to answer though as a convertible pulled up to the side of the road. My glassy eyes fixed on the driver as he climbed out of the car and pulled off his aviator sunglasses, sliding them into his chest pocket on his gray suit vest and started toward Frank and me. He came to a halt, eyes wide as his gaze flickered between me and the solider holding my hand.

"Am I interrupting?" asked Howard Stark, his tone suspicious, eyes narrowed at Frank.

"No," I squeaked out as Frank said, "Yes," in a slightly threatened tone.

"Okay…uh, Doctor Erskine believes he's made a significant breakthrough in the vaccine," said Howard, his gaze finally shifting to me. "He wants you to come in."

"A vaccine? You're working on a vaccine with Howard Stark? Isn't he an engineer?" demanded Frank. Before I could respond, Frank whirled on Howard. "Aren't you an engineer?"

"I am, but I'm funding the vaccine," said Howard smoothly. Howard and I had become quite the liars as we learned to cover up our work on Project Rebirth in the company of others. We had enough code words that we were able to have an entire discussion about the serum in public without anyone thinking twice about it.

But even though over the last few months Howard and I became close friends and impeccable liars, we'd never thought of the answer to one question. The question that Frank asked next:

"Vaccine for what?"

"Vaccine for what?" Howard repeated, somewhat confused.

"Yeah, a vaccine for what?" asked Frank again, looking a tad impatient.

Howard met my eyes over Frank's shoulder and gave me a look that said _What do I say?_

I shrugged, hoping to convey the message _I don't know, don't ask me!_

"Right, the vaccine's purpose. Why don't you tell your boyfriend here what the vaccine is for, Ms. Frost?" said Howard, gesturing broadly to me.

I shot Howard a downright murderous glare before Frank turned around. Once Frank was facing me and a smile was plastered on my face, Howard mouth to me, _Sorry._

"The vaccine is for…polio," I managed, proud that my voice didn't betray the lie. "And he's not my boyfriend," I added.

"Polio?" Frank asked, his nose screwed up adorably, but when he heard my next words, he seemed to deflate and I instantly felt bad.

I cleared my throat. "Polio," I confirmed. "They had a close one back in '36, but it didn't work. Stark's funding me and another doctor's work."

A huge smile broke out on Frank's face, the disappointment on his features dissipating completely. "That's wonderful, AJ! My little cousin has polio, I'm so proud of you!"

My heart broke as he spoke. I said a silent prayer that Frank would never find out that I wasn't actually working on a polio vaccine to help his cousin. Howard was staring at me in horror when he heard Frank's words and drawing a finger across his neck sending one message clearly: _Abort mission._

I cleared my throat and looked at Howard. "So you need me then, Mr. Stark?"

Howard stopped jerking his finger across his throat as Frank looked at him. "Right, um, yes, A-Ms. Frost. We need you. Right now."

"Okay, I'll meet you in the car." I looked back at Frank as Howard retreated to his convertible. "Can we talk about this later?"

"Later?" asked Frank, "But—"

Howard honked the horn as he started the vehicle.

"I'm sorry, Frank, really, but this is really important. I'll call you, okay?"

"Uh, okay," said Frank, dropping my hand, looking thoroughly defeated.

What happened next, I'm not sure why I did it. Maybe it was because I wanted to. Maybe I just felt bad for the guy. Whatever it was, it happened. I touched Frank's clean shaven cheek and gave him a feather light peck on the lips, maybe half a second long. When I pulled away, I hurried down the stairs and climbed in the passenger seat of Howard's car.

Howard, who had put back on his sunglasses, pulled them down a fraction on his nose. "Did you just do what I think you did?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

I groaned. "Just drive, would ya?"

Howard chuckled heartily and pulled away from the curb, honking his horn. I glanced back at Frank, who was still standing on the stairs to my apartment building, a confused expression on his face, his hand in the air as a way to say goodbye.

* * *

The ride to the SSR base was, in one word, _long_. The silence between Howard and I was practically unbearable. The warm spring wind was blowing my hair in all kinds of directions as Howard had the car's top down. He drove with his eyes not leaving the road once to look at me, which Howard _never_ did. He wasn't exactly a model driver, but today he seemed to be.

"Would you please talk to me?" I whined, my voice coming out much more annoying than I had intended.

Howard was silent. He turned his head to look at me slightly, and then his eyes went right back to the road. After a few beats of silence, I was about to say something, but Howard beat me to it. "Polio…" he said slowly. "You just told him you're working on the vaccine…for polio." He wrinkled his nose. "Couldn't you have come up with something less…I don't know, less groundbreaking?"

I flung my hands in the air. "I didn't exactly have time to come up with a quality lie, Howard! You kinda put me on the spot!"

"I suppose I did," admitted Howard. Then a disbelieving grin came across his face. "You told him you're working on a polio vaccine," he drawled, "and his _cousin_ has polio."

I groaned and leaned back, my head smacking against the headrest. "I know, I know. I'm never living this one down."

"If they ever actually do come up with a polio vaccine and that guy survives the war? Yeah, you're _definitely_ never living it down," snorted Howard between laughs. "And then…and then you…you kissed him!"

"Not a word to Erskine!" I growled lowly. "Look, Frank is just…just a friend."

"Seemed to be a lot more than a friend ten minutes ago."

"Is that jealousy I detect, Stark?" I teased.

Howard raised an eyebrow and I saw his eyes roll behind his sunglasses. "Not on your life, Frost. Not on your life."

"Whatever. He's a nice guy and I…I wouldn't mind going steady with him," I mumbled.

"Going steady?" said Howard, disbelief coloring his tone. He looked at me sharply. "Who said anything about going steady?" Understanding dawned on him a moment later and he stared at me as we came to a stoplight. "Did Frank…did he just ask you to go steady?"

"He might have," I said in an uncharacteristically small voice.

"And if I may inquire, what did you say?!"

"I didn't!"

"You didn't?!"

"I didn't get the chance to! That's when you pulled up and interrupted!"

"Aw, shoot, I ruined your moment didn't I?" whined Howard.

"No, no," I said quickly, "you were fine. Actually, thank you for that."

"Thank you?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome? I think?"

I sighed. "Look, Howard, I've…I've never actually dated anyone before, okay? That's why I'm so nervous. I _know_ it's not a big deal, but it just is to me."

"Well, how long have you known this guy?"

I glanced over at Howard, whose voice had taken on a noticeably serious tone to it. There was no smirk on his face, no laughter bubbling up. He looked like he actually _wanted_ to be helpful, which was mildly terrifying, especially since this was my practically nonexistent love life we were talking about.

Howard looked at my bewildered expression and rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to be helpful, AJ, don't look so surprised. You're like a little sister to me; it's my job to question you about boys."

"Please," I drawled, "I have enough big brothers to make my life a nightmare, I do _not_ need one more."

"Too bad!" said Howard cheerfully. "Now answer the damn question before I change my mind."

I blew out a breath and combed my fingers carefully through my knotted curls from the wind. "I met him at the Recruitment Center. I was the nurse who ran his check-up. He had been really nice. And then just last week he showed up, outta basic and the rest is history."

"How many dates?"

I pursed my lips. "That was the fourth."

"How are his manners?"

"Geez, Howard, what is this, an interrogation?"

"Answer the question, AJ!"

"They're great!" I exclaimed finally. "He's amazing, Howard. He's polite and funny and sophisticated and he treats me like a princess. He's the first guy to ever meet my standards and they're pretty hard to meet."

"Then why are you so hesitant?" Howard asked, tilting his head at me as he parked the convertible on the curb. He lowered his sunglasses on his nose, his dark eyes searching mine for an answer.

"I don't know," I confessed, wringing my hands. "He's a soldier, you know? He's going to be shipped out in November and there's no guarantee he'll ever come back. I just don't want to get my heart broken. I don't know if I could handle it."

"Well," said Howard as he folded up the glasses and slid them his pocket. "That's the thing about love, doll. It's a risk. It's chancy. It's why I don't get involved in it, but I'm not exactly a Grade A role model. It's scary and I'm scared." He got out of the car, walking around to my side and opening the door for me. "But I also haven't found the right person. It seems to me that Frank could be the guy for you, AJ. Don't let him get away just because you're scared."

I stared at Howard as I got out of the car. My eyes were narrowed suspiciously as I looked at the engineer. "When did America's Mustachioed Casanova become so insightful on the topic of love?" I teased lightly.

Howard snorted lowly and shook his head. "About ten seconds ago." He jerked his chin to the little antique shop that hid the SSR base below. "We should get inside. Erskine's waiting."

"Big news?"

Howard grinned at me. "Trust me, AJ. We're closer than ever."

I smiled back. "Well, I'd like to hope so. Wouldn't want all this secrecy and a fake polio vaccine to go to waste."

Howard snickered a bit to himself and held the door to Brooklyn Antiques for me. "Shall we, Ms. Frost?"

I stepped in and curtsied lightly to Howard. "We shall, Mr. Stark," and we went to work.


	5. Chapter Four

**Author's Note:** I'm not happy with this chapter, nope nope nope. It's short, I think it's a tad awkward, and I don't like it one bit. I had different plans for this chapter, but this is what happened when I started writing it. I figure it's not gonna go smoothly if I try to write how I planned to, so I'm gonna post this, but I want you all to know I don't like it. But maybe you will. So favorite, follow, and drop a review if you feel so inclined, and enjoy this chapter! (God knows I didn't.)

 **Rating:** T for swearing and violence.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Captain America. It's a darn shame.

 **Editing:** All editing it done by me, all mistakes are mine.

 **Face Claim:** Sophia Bush (like, _One Tree Hill_ days).

* * *

 _Chapter Four_

I ended up taking Howard Stark's love advice, which are eight words I never thought I'd say in a million years. After we finished working that day, I went home and slept on it, getting some much needed rest. When I woke up, I realized that Howard was right, another six words that I'd hoped to never admit. I saw Frank that day and we went on our fifth date. He asked me to go steady again that night.

That time, I said yes.

* * *

 **November 9, 1942 – Central Park, New York City, New York**

The entire family was in New York City for George's marriage to Sally, the God awful cook. Sam and Eileen had come up with Dougie and little Lauren Grace, who was just fourteen weeks old. Westley flew in from the Pacific coast. We'd received a letter from him back in mid-January to assure us that he was okay. Charlie and Henry carpooled with me and Frank, who I decided to take as my plus one.

Central Park was gorgeous that day. It wasn't as cold as it could have been and I opted to wear one of my lighter coats over my lilac purple dress. The wedding was sparsely crowded, only a small family gathering like George wanted. I sat near the front with Frank as the procession droned on, trying to stay interested.

It wasn't going so well.

I'd never been a huge fan of weddings. I tended to get bored easily and weddings were extremely tedious in my opinion. That viewpoint was not shared by either of my friends, Jane nor Lydia, who had each gotten an invitation of their own. They sat to my left, staring wide-eyed at the ceremony and paying extensive attention to every little detail going on. To my right, though, Frank looked just as bored as I was.

His lithe and muscular arm was wrapped around my shoulders, playing aimlessly with my curly hair. He hadn't been himself lately, but I didn't blame him. He was being shipped out within the month and he was noticeably nervous. Wearing his army formal attire, he looked very sophisticated and handsome. The only thing I didn't like about Frank's look was that he insisted on getting his hair cut short before he was deployed. It was _too_ short, but I let it go. He didn't need me adding stress to his life.

I found myself thinking about Frank and me for the remainder of the service. Things had been going remarkably well between us over the past few months and Howard took every chance he got to rub it in my face. He'd started calling himself the Mustachioed Cupid. I hit him every time he referred to himself that way.

On the other hand, I wondered how things were _actually_ going. After all, this was my first legitimate relationship. I was twenty-four for crying out loud! Still though, the dreaded question nagged in the back of my mind. Was this actually love, or just affection? I wasn't sure.

I frowned at the thought. I _hated_ not being sure. That was one reason I loved science. With science, there was a sure reason and answer for everything I did. There was no in between, no maybe. But with life, there were always those questions. Love was one of the world's great mysteries that only a few had figured out, and I sure as heck was not one of them.

When the service was finally over, that confused frown was still plastered on my face. Someone had started up a record player, and everywhere around me, couples danced. Jane and Lydia had even found themselves a couple of partners, who I assumed were a couple of George's friends.

I found Frank's fingers as they tucked under my chin and he turned my head to face him, a curious expression lighting up his features. "You've had that same frown on your face for the past half hour of the service," he said. "Something on your mind?"

Without really thinking about it, I shook my head. I didn't want Frank to know I was having second thoughts, especially considering things were going so well. I didn't want him to blame himself. I didn't want him to go off to North Africa thinking that I didn't feel anything for him at all, because I did. I just wasn't quite sure what it was yet.

"I'm fine, Frank," I said, a grin spreading across my lips. When he didn't look entirely convinced, I shed off my jacket and stood up, taking Frank's hand in mine and tugging him towards where everyone was dancing. "C'mon."

At that, Frank smiled at me and swept me over to the little area where people danced around us. Frank took one of my hands and I put the other around his neck. George's favorite type of swing music was playing, so the dancing was upbeat, more so than Frank was used to, I could tell. Frank certainly wasn't the most coordinated dancer, but he didn't step on my feet, and that was enough for me.

I forgot about all my worries, the question of love shoved back to the back of my mind as I let Frank sweep me away with the music. After a few tracks, the tune slowed down to a slower song. I locked my fingers behind Frank's neck and his own hands hovered over my waist carefully.

I raised an eyebrow with him, a small smirk playing along my lips. "You know, we've been going steady for almost nine months. You're allowed to touch me. We've been dancing before."

"I know," murmured Frank, his husky voice low in my ear. "But it's never been in front of your parents or five brothers…"

I laughed and shook my head. "Mom likes you. All my brothers like you. Dad tolerates you, though I think 'tolerate' is the only word he'll ever use when it comes to suitable guys for me. It's okay, Frank."

He let loose a defeated sigh and his warm hands settled on my hips. "Fine. But if I get in trouble, I'm telling your dad it was your idea."

I rolled my eyes. "You're over exaggerating."

"Really? Am I?" Frank's eyes diverted from mine for a second, looking past me, before he looked at me again. "Because good old Mr. Frost is heading this way right now."

As if on cue, Dad appeared, raising an eyebrow as he looked between Frank and I. "You don't mind if I cut in for a dance with my only daughter, do you, Frank?"

Frank laughed, though it was a bit forced, and shook his head, taking a step back from me. "Not at all, sir." He looked at me. "I'll grab us some wedding cake?"

"Yeah, I'll be over in a second," I said. Frank looked at my dad once before kissing the top of my head and heading over to where the food was set out.

I rested one arm around Dad's neck and the let him take my other hand as he narrowed his eyes after Frank. "Kissing your head with me around? The kid has guts."

"Leave him alone, Dad," I said good-naturedly. "He's probably the nicest guy that I could have found. He met the standards."

"Yeah, well, he doesn't meet _my_ standards," grumbled my dad.

"Your standards are to 'not join the military', which is kind of difficult considering we're at war right now, Daddy," I pointed out. "Your standards are actually impossible to meet."

"No they aren't," he argued. "Look at Sam, George, and Charlie! They didn't enlist!"

"You wouldn't let them enlist," I deadpanned.

"Yeah, and West shouldn't have enlisted either. The kid always did have a rebellious streak," he said, fondness breaking through the hard tone in his voice.

I looked at my second-oldest brother. He was smiling and talking to Frank by the cake. He looked happier than I'd seen him in a long time.

"So, uh, Addie, I wanted to talk to you about something."

I turned my head at my dad's voice, which sounded decidedly uncomfortable. He looked just as nervous George while he was saying vows only forty minutes ago. "About what?"

"About Frank."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh-kay…what about him?"

"I just…I wanted to let you know…even though he doesn't meet my standards…if he's the one, I'm okay with it," he finished.

I stared at my dad. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. _The one_? Frank was _the first_. I barely knew how I felt about Frank, much less whether or not he was 'the one'. I opened my mouth to say something snarky, but I closed it when I saw my dad's face. Were those…tears? And then it hit me. I was my dad's _only_ daughter. The only one he'd ever have to give away. And he was offering to, if I wanted it. I couldn't imagine how hard it was for him to say those words to me.

Instead of laughing or reassuring my dad that I didn't even know where Frank and I were going, I hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Daddy," I whispered. "I love you."

"You're welcome, Addie," he said, squeezing me tightly. "I love you, too."

* * *

 **December 3, 1942 – The New York Port of Embarkation, New York City, New York**

It was the day after Frank and I's ten month anniversary. He was being shipped out. I stood on the port with Frank, our fingers tangled together. We stared at the large ocean liner before us, the _Monarco._

Frank turned to me and took my other hand. "So I guess this is goodbye."

I couldn't help the tears that threatened to fall down my cheeks. "Only temporarily," I said.

"Hey, don't cry," Frank whispered. He brushed the tears from my cheeks and smiled at me. "I'll come back for you. Okay?"

I gave him a watery smile. "Promise?"

"I promise I'll come back for you, Adelyn Juliet. But now you promise me something."

"Anything."

"Marry me."

My mind went blank. The ocean breeze blew across the port, drying my salty tears to my face. I said the only thing that came to mind. "What?"

"Marry me," Frank said again, his voice a bit desperate. "When I get back. You said it yourself, this is only temporary. And things have been going so well. I already asked your dad, back at George's wedding. He said he was okay with it. I don't have the rings yet, but I'll get them as soon as I get home. So what do you say, huh?" He pulled his silver cross necklace out from under his shirt and gently turned me around. "It would be great. We'd be amazing together, you and me," he said. His fingers brushed my hair out of the way as he lowered the necklace around my neck and locked it together. "So, Adelyn? Whaddya say?"

I'm not exactly sure what happened next. The words kind of tumbled out of my mouth without warning or any thought. In the rational part of my mind, they made sense. I wasn't convinced when he first asked me and after all of his begging, I _still_ wasn't convinced. Yeah, the last ten months had been great, but I still didn't know if I was in love with him or not, and marriage was a thing of love. I thought I was ready to see Frank's reaction.

Boy was I wrong. Nothing, absolutely _nothing_ , could have prepared me for the heartbreak that was evident on Frank's face.

"I can't, Frank," I said, my voice cracking in the slightest as I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder. "I don't know if I'm ready. I know that it's been ten months, but…but I've never been in a relationship before and this is my first one and I don't know if I can do it! It's not your fault, I promise, it's me, not you. You're amazing, Frank, and any girl would be lucky to have you—I mean, _I'm_ lucky to have you, but you deserve someone who knows what she's feeling, who fully has a grasp on relationships and love and who's ready—"

"Hey, hey, hey," Frank's voice silenced my nervous rambling and his hands settled on shoulders as he spun me around. The heartbreak that had been there a moment ago was gone and replaced with a light smile. His silver necklace still hung around my neck. "To be honest, I kinda figured you'd say no. You're kind of a hard shell to crack, AJ." He took a deep breath. "One that I'm willing to wait for, if you'll do the same for me. Can you at least do that? I mean, I know it's selfish, but—"

"Yes," I said, cutting him off. "I'll wait for you. You know what they say." Upon Frank's confused look, I continued. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder. I'll wait. And if you get back and I'm ready…we'll go from there."

A wide grin broke out across Frank's face, but it was broken by a nurse yelling first call throughout the soldiers around us on the port. "I think that's my cue," he said.

I stood up on my tiptoes, kissing him softly. "Be careful, Frank."

"I will," he said.

"Promise?"

"Promise," he affirmed, before pulling back and giving me a quick peck on the forehead. "I'll see ya later, Adelyn Juliet."

"Bye, Frank Thomas."

I watched his back the entire way to the ocean liner, my fingers closed around the silver cross around my neck. He didn't turn around once.


	6. Chapter Five

**Author's Note:** In light of the last chapter, I'm sure you'll all be glad to hear that I _loved_ writing this one. And I'm pretty sure you're all gonna like it to. Or at least, I hope so. So drop a review since I'm giving y'all some Bucky action, mmkay? Mmkay. Thanks!

 **Rating:** T for swearing and violence.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Captain America. If only.

 **Editing:** All editing it done by me, all mistakes are mine.

 **Face Claim:** Sophia Bush (like, _One Tree Hill_ days).

* * *

 _Chapter Five_

 **December 6, 1942 – Steve's Apartment: Steve's POV**

Steve was sitting at the dining room table, his sketch pencil lightly drifting across the old blank sheet of paper. Right now, the drawing before him was only a rough image Bucky's dog, an old Labrador retriever named Thunder. The picture wasn't exactly Steve's best work, and he frowned, his pencil hovering above Thunder's half-drawn ear. He left the pencil to fall onto the paper and sat back, the gears in his head grinding.

Bucky had taken off earlier that morning, saying he'd be back in an hour or so. It was going on dinner time now and Steve was getting worried. He knew Bucky could handle himself with no problem, but his best friend was all he really had right then. Steve didn't necessarily mind being alone, but he certainly didn't like it either, and he'd always prefer Bucky's company.

With a sigh, Steve stood up and stretched his skinny arms over his head, hearing a few pops and joints shifting and cracking. He wandered into the living room, where some of Bucky's things were still laid out from the night before. His suitcase was half open, bunched up clothes spilling over onto the stained carpet. The radio was still on, playing so softly that Steve hadn't even heard the music in the dining room. Peeking out from under the dirty clothes in Bucky's suitcase was a piece of paper, messily folded up.

Leaning down, Steve grasped the paper and unfolded it, gazing at the sketch of the army nurse that he had drawn for his best friend months ago. It'd be a year in a week or so. Steve could hardly believe that Buck still had the drawing. He was certain that Bucky had gotten over the dark haired spitfire from the Recruitment Center. Bucky hadn't exactly been as brooding as he had been that first month or so after seeing her. In fact, the two of them had gone out on a bunch of double dates since then. One of them had been just last week.

Of course, it ended up like every double date Bucky set them up on. Steve ended up sitting at the bar in the Stork Club while Buck took turns dancing with both girls. By the end of the night, Steve had been so drunk that Bucky had to half-drag him home and stay the rest of the evening with him just in case. A small grin broke across Steve's features as he thought back on the next morning fondly, waking up to his best friend at the stove, trying to imitate his chocolate chip pancakes. They hadn't been as good as Steve's, but they were sufficient, even though Steve threw them up after he was finished eating, a massive hangover settling in for the day.

With a set jaw, Steve marched back to the dining room table and plunked down in his seat. He picked up his sketch pencil and began drawing furiously on a fresh piece of paper. The pencil danced on the page like a puppet directed by Steve himself and after around thirty minutes or so, the image of Bucky formed on the paper, his expression of disbelief imprinted in graphite. Beside his best friend, Steve drew himself, laughing, barely containing his loud guffaws of amusement. With that drawing complete, Steve studied it, smiling a bit before setting it aside and tearing off a new piece of paper. This time, Steve drew the army nurse once more, but he drew her looking over her shoulder, a snarky expression on her feather light features, just the one she'd given Bucky when she had turned him down. With satisfaction as he finished the two drawings, he glanced over at the clock when he saw that almost two hours had passed since he'd sat down to draw the three of them at the Recruitment Center an entire year ago. The two newest drawings had no colors in them, just sketched in pencil, but Steve thought it was fitting to some degree on an artistic level. Something about there not being a happy ending yet, and colors went with happy endings.

Shaking his head on the intense thinking he was doing, Steve folded up the two new drawings inside of the older one and went back to the living room, returning the folded up images to where he'd found them. He had a feeling Bucky would be mildly amused when he found the new sketches and smiled to himself when he pictured Bucky's eye roll upon seeing them.

He walked back to the kitchen and went to the fridge, where he pulled a fresh apple out of the fruit drawer. As he rinsed it off, he glanced up to the door where the handle jiggled, betraying someone trying to get into the house. The front door opened a moment later, Bucky entering, a look of frozen shock etched on his sharp features.

Steve took a hand towel and dried off the apple as he spoke, "Bucky? Buck, what's wrong?"

His best friend said something inaudible as he closed the door to the apartment and began to shed off his winter coat.

"What? Buck, I can't hear you," said Steve, taking a bite of the apple.

As Bucky said his next words, the apple bite that Steve swallowed turned to molten lead in his throat, his windpipe constricting considerably.

"I got drafted," Bucky whispered and Steve's heart dropped to his feet.

* * *

 **December 7, 1942 – US Recruiting and Induction Center, New York City, New York: AJ's POV**

"One more," said Lydia, coming into the changing room, where I was currently taking off my hat and shoving it in my locker.

"What?" I asked sharply, spinning around. "I thought we were done for the night."

Lydia shrugged as she began to slip out of her uniform. "Two guys just came in. One's here for 'moral support' he claims and the other got drafted yesterday. He needs his check-up. Doctor Paris said he was all yours."

I groaned. "Couldn't he have given him to Harriet or someone else?"

Lydia giggled a little bit. "You _are_ Paris's favorite. I guess it's not all perks."

"Guess not," I grunted and pulled out my clipboard and pen. "But I'm not putting back on the hat." Lydia smirked while she handed me the soldier's form and I clipped it to the board without looking at the name. I was definitely not in the mood to deal with another cocksure soon-to-be soldier with a devil may care attitude, which had been what I was getting all day. I sent up a silent prayer in hopes that whoever I was seeing would have manners akin to Frank's, if even only somewhat.

I stepped out of the dressing room and made my way down the hall into the waiting area for the soldiers. Keeping my eyes firmly on my clipboard, I traversed up to the name scribbled across the top and I swear my day got ten times worse. I swallowed and my eyes flickered in the waiting area where I saw them sitting, the skinny blond facing his companion. The tall, dark haired one looked nervous, his knee bouncing up and down at breakneck speed. They hadn't seen me yet and I wasn't particularly keen on them doing so.

The last time I'd talked to James Barnes, I'd had a headache for the rest of the night.

I sighed and stepped into the room. James's head snapped up, his unbelievably blue eyes locking on mine and widening a bit in recognition. Steve's gaze followed his friend's a moment later and he smiled at me, lifting a hand in a slight wave.

"James Barnes," I said, his name sliding off my tongue and leaving a slightly bitter taste in its wake. The lazy grin that haunted my nightmares danced across his mouth as he stood up and stretched, his white shirt riding up on his waistline. Clenching my jaw, I kept my gaze firmly planted on Steve and raised a hand in greeting. "Hey, Steve."

James's hands resided idly in his pockets as he moseyed on over to where I was standing. "Well, well, well, darlin'. Looks like your name is going to be my business after all." His tone dripped with arrogance and sarcasm that made me want to smack that lopsided grin off of his extremely handsome face. He looked a tad different than when I'd seen him a year ago. His hair was shorter and there was no gel holding it back, so it flopped down on his forehead. A bit of stubble grew on his face and neck, like he hadn't shaved in the past day or so. He was so frustratingly attractive that I had a sinking feeling this was going to be extremely difficult. I tried to think about Frank, but as attractive as Frank was, he was mildly average compared to James.

"Right this way, Mr. Barnes, if you'd please." I turned on one heel and began walking back to my examination room before James could respond.

Behind us, I heard Steve yell, "I'll be out here waiting! Go easy on him!"

I couldn't help the small grin that spread across my lips and I was thankful that James was a few strides behind me so he couldn't see it. I didn't need to give him the satisfaction or the ammunition. The smile was instantly wiped off my face as James fell into step with me.

"I still never got that name, darlin'," he said easily.

"First of all, don't call me 'darling'," I said, my tone all business, not even the slightest bit of amusement creeping into it, which I was quite proud of. I had to admit, the guy was nothing if not persistent. Annoying, yes, but persistent. "And you can call me Nurse Frost."

"Nurse Frost," said James, drawing out every syllable carefully.

I stopped at my exam room and drew back the curtain for James, who stopped in the entrance and looked at me, his head tilted slightly and his expression reminding me of a puppy. "Does Nurse Frost have a first name?"

I raised an eyebrow and jerked my chin into the room to the exam table without a word. Raising his hands in defense, James ducked inside and had a seat, the paper crinkling as he sat down. I let the curtain fall as I answered, setting my clipboard aside and opening the cupboard above the sink to dig around for a thermometer. "I do have a first name," I said.

"Well, are you gonna tell me it?"

I glanced over my shoulder at James's overeager tone. His legs kicked like a little kid on a sugar rush as he looked at me. His lopsided grin seemed permanently etched into his features, at least to me. Seriously, smiling that much seemed downright uncomfortable.

"No, I'm not," I replied with a smirk of my own at James's whine. Finally, my fingers closed around a thermometer and I turned back to the cocky man, and raised an eyebrow. "Open your mouth."

James obliged and waggled his eyebrows suggestively as he did so. I rolled my eyes so hard, I thought they'd fall out of my head as I stuck the thermometer under his tongue. The last time I'd rolled my eyes like that had been the first time I'd met Howard. The two men were remarkably similar, I noted, except Howard was more tolerable. James shut his mouth, still grinning through the object between his teeth.

"Can you not smile for like three seconds?" I demanded. James opened his mouth to respond and held up a hand. "Don't answer that. Keep your trap shut so I can get an accurate reading."

James did as I instructed. I waited around fifteen seconds or so before grasping the edge of the thermometer an pulling it out when the James opened his mouth.

"How am I lookin', Frosty? Bet I have a fever 'cause I'm just too hot," he said, giving me an over exaggerated wink.

"Don't call me 'Frosty'," I said sharply. "And actually, you're at about ninety-six and a half." I leaned over conspiratorially and whispered in his ear, "I hate to break it to you, Barnes, but that's average."

I pulled back quickly, not liking the close proximity between us. I retrieved the blood pressure arm cuff from the cupboard and turned around. James's face was screwed up in a pout, his eyes narrowed at me, presumably from me calling him 'average'.

"Okay, I'll bite," he said as he rolled up his sleeve for me. His right arm clenched under his movements as he spoke, the lithe, corded muscle mesmerizing me for a moment before I wrapped the cuff around it, cutting off my view.

"You don't like me," he mused idly. "Why?"

I mockingly gasped. "Whatever gave you that impression?" I drawled, a smirk threatening to break out across my face. I refused to let it. There was no way I was going to let James get to me.

"Well, I dunno. You have an attitude, for one. You don't even give me the light of day. It's kind of disheartening, really."

"I'm sure if you left this building and went to the nearest dance hall you won't have an issue finding a woman to pay you the attention you need. I'm sure that won't be all that 'disheartening'," I said using air quotes.

"Yeah, but what's the fun in that? You're a challenge. I like challenges."

"Well, this challenge," I said as I pulled the arm cuff off his arm, jotting down his numbers, "doesn't like you that way. Or at all, in fact. We're both here on business, Mr. Barnes."

Before James could respond, I looked back at the clipboard. "It seems you've had all of your vaccinations, which makes my job easier. You're free to go, Mr. Barnes."

I strode over to the curtain and held it open for James, who still hadn't moved from his seat on the examination table. His legs were still kicking, but not as furiously as before. His head was tilted at an angle and his baby blues were roving over me, inspecting me thoroughly. The lopsided grin that usually covered his features was gone for the first time ever. He actually looked mildly serious, which was kind of odd.

"I like you," he decided as he hopped off the table, his hands returning to his pockets as he sidled on up to me.

"Yes, we went over this," I said, somewhat annoyed.

"No, no, not like that," said James with a bit of a chuckle. "But just as a person. I like you. You have more of a personality than any woman I've ever met. It's entrancing. You're like a breath of fresh air compared to all the mindless dames that I come across in the Stork Club everyday with Steve. If I hadn't started out treating you like every other girl I come across, and I wasn't going off to basic in a few days, I have a feeling we could have become the best of friends."

I felt my eyebrows raising in shock. I was used to the catcalls and compliments from men on my figure and looks, but _that_ was a compliment in itself. As I recalled the only times I'd come across James, he'd never actually complimented me, only flirted. But the first real compliment he gave me was on my personality and not my looks.

Even Frank had complimented my looks first.

I opened and closed my mouth, trying to find a good response, but nothing came to find. "Thanks," I finally said stupidly, feeling entirely inadequate compared to James's assessment of me.

He smirked a bit. "You're welcome, Nurse Frost. How about that name, now then, huh?"

I rolled my eyes as we started to walk down the hallway. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Barnes."

James gave me an incredulous look. "After all that, I _still_ don't get your name?"

I merely shrugged. "You said it yourself, you're going off to basic. Probably won't see me again."

James groaned, "Fine, but uh…" His hand shot out and wrapped around my forearm as I was about to step into the waiting area. My skin tingled at the contact and I raised an eyebrow at the fingers on my arm. He jerked his hand back. "Sorry," he apologized. "It's just…look." James peeked his head out into the waiting room and pulled back quickly as he began speaking. "Both of Steve's parents are gone and he really doesn't have that many friends. I don't want to leave him alone for four whole months. Here, may I?" He held his hand out.

I'm not sure why I did it, but I handed James the clipboard and the pen.

He scrawled something down in messy handwriting and handed it back to me. "That's Steve's address. The guy took a real shine to you when you turned me down that first time, didn't quit talkin' about it for a week's time. Pay him a visit every now and then, will ya? For me? "

"For you?" I scoffed.

James rolled his eyes. "Fine, just as a personal favor, whatever. I worry about the little guy."

I surveyed the address critically, my gaze flitting from the paper to James's pleading blue eyes every few seconds. "Fine," I finally gave in.

Relief flooded James's expression. "Thank you so much, Nurse Frost. I owe you one."

I waved him off. "It's for a friend."

James raised an eyebrow. "So we're friends now?"

"Steve," I clarified. "This is for Steve, not you."

"Whatever floats your boat, darlin'. You're doing me a hell of a favor here," said James easily. His lazy grin had returned and I saw James in a new light.

The lazy grin was still annoying, but it had an endearing edge to it of a man who cared for his friend. My mind was still buzzing from the compliment he'd given me earlier and I realized that James was right. Perhaps if he wasn't going off to basic training, we could have been friends, given the opportunity.

Before I could think too much into it, I shook my head. "C'mon, then."

James and I entered the waiting area and Steve shot up to greet us. "He's in one piece," said the little man with a sly grin. "I'm shocked."

"Well, I didn't want the United States Army to be down one healthy recruit. We need all the able-bodied men we can," I said. Steve's face fell a bit and I rested a hand on his shoulder. "And we need all the able-bodied men we can back here at home, too. Who's gonna swoop in for all the girls out there in their time of need?" I added, wiggling my eyebrows.

Steve grinned and shook his head. "You're sweet, Nurse…?" He dropped off, looking a tad embarrassed.

"Frost," I said with a smile. "AJ Frost."

I didn't miss the quirk of his eyebrow or the genuine smile that lit up James's face when I told Steve my name.

"Well, uh, AJ, you're a real nice dame—er, woman. I mean, you're a real nice woman."

James rolled his eyes and clapped Steve on the shoulder as he slipped by to shrug on his winter coat. "C'mon, Stevie. Let's go get some pie or somethin'. A little last hurrah."

Steve nodded, looking at James. "Yeah, sure, Buck." Steve looked back at me and smiled a bit. "I'll see you around then, AJ?" he said, a hint of a question in his voice.

"Yeah," I said easily. "Stop by any time. Perhaps we could grab some lunch sometime? I could introduce you to my friends."

Steve's face lit up. "Yeah, that sounds great! I'll stop by after Buck leaves for basic, then?"

"It's a date," I said with a wink and Steve flushed.

"Y-Yeah, it's a date."

"Ay, Steve!" said James, a bit louder than necessary. "Quit flirtin' with my woman!"

" _Your_ woman?" I inquired, hands on my hips.

Steve laughed and jogged over to where James was waiting by the door. James smiled at me, mouthing the words _Thank you_ as Steve was more focused on wrenching the door open.

I couldn't help but smile back as those two little words melted my hard exterior.

"Bye, AJ!" called Steve, waving over his shoulder. James lifted his hand as well, his smile a tad more nervous than I was used to.

I waved to the two men and watched them as they entered the cold, December night. I sighed as I ran a hand through my dark curls, wondering just how in the world I'd agreed to keep an eye on a little blond man as a favor to James Barnes of all people.


	7. Chapter Six

**Author's Note:** Tada! Here you guys go, Chapter Six, completed and delivered. I _love_ the dynamics between Steve and AJ, their friendship is a blast to write. I'm not sure who I've had more fun writing so far, Steve or Howard. It's kinda a tie. Bucky...well, as soon as we get to Bucky being a chapter regular, I'm sure he'll pull ahead of them both. But enough of thinking about future chapters, because you all have one to read right here! So please read, review, and follow, and favorite for me, it really boosts my writing muse to know people are enjoying what I'm putting out! So do that! Enjoy and have a nice day!

 **Rating:** T for swearing and violence.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Captain America. If I did, I'd probably be swimming in money and having parties with Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans.

 **Editing:** All editing it done by me, all mistakes are mine.

 **Face Claim:** Sophia Bush (Like, the one random and totally convenient episode of _One Tree Hill_ set in 1941, which is actually perfect, what the heck, like that's luck. It's Episode 6.11 if anyone is wondering what I'm talking about.)

* * *

 _Chapter Six_

 **January 3, 1943** **– The Stork Club, Manhattan, New York**

"I appreciate you taking me here, AJ, I really do, but—"

"It's not my scene either, Steve, trust me," I grumbled. I rolled around the ice in my glass as I took the last swig of whiskey, wincing a bit as it burned down the back of my throat.

I looked over to my left to find Steve smirking at me, nursing his own bottle of expensive beer that I still wasn't sure how to pay for. We were sitting in the Stork Club, a high end bar and dance hall in Manhattan. I wasn't a fan of bars or alcohol in general, so I certainly wasn't in my element. But, of course, Howard had insisted he take me along sometime, and that left me convincing Steve to come with me and keep my company. Coincidentally, I hadn't seen Howard since Steve and I sat down, which had to at least have been an hour ago.

I'd spent a lot of time with Steve lately, not because of James's request, but because I genuinely liked Steve. He'd met both Lydia and Jane and I was certain he had a thing for one of them, but he refused to tell me which one. We'd been out to lunches and dinners, went on nature walks in Central Park (when it wasn't below thirty degrees), and had gone to a few movies here and there. If I was being totally honest, I felt like I'd known Steve a lifetime and could call him one of my best friends. He finally could get through a conversation with me without stuttering or calling me a, and I quote, "beautiful dame" and I called that progress.

So there we sat, surrounded by socialites, a couple of out-of-place New Yorkers in one of the most prestigious clubs in the inner city. The bartender, a cute redhead (err, mildly attractive young man), came by and I signaled for him to fill my glass back up. _Think of Frank_ , I idly reminded myself as the bartender shot me a little grin and headed off to the other side of the bar.

I groaned and took a small sip of my whiskey, wrinkling my nose.

"I thought you hated alcohol," said Steve. Humor was predominant in his tone and, sure enough, he was smirking at me when I glanced at him.

I rolled my eyes. "I do."

"Then why are you drinking?"

"Because, Steve, I'm surrounded by many attractive, rich, fancy men, and I am spoken for. It's kinda frustrating."

Steve frowned. "Shouldn't you…ya know, stay sober then?"

"I'm not gonna get drunk, Steve. Just…buzzed."

Steve chuckled. "Whatever you say, Jay." He took a drink of his beer and frowned a bit. "So why are we still here again?"

"Howard promised me he'd meet us," I growled. "But Howard is also a lying, cheating dirtball, so I highly doubt he'll be joining us. He probably got called away for work and forget to mention it."

"Right," Steve drawled. "Howard who?"

"Howard Stark."

Steve didn't respond and I looked over at my companion. The blond man had his beer bottle to his lips, his eyebrows raised. He swallowed his drink and set his bottle down, fixing me with an intense look. "Howard…Stark?"

I'd gotten used to spending so much time with Howard, I'd forgotten that he was somewhat of a legend to regular folk like me. Howard certainly didn't act like the social group he was a part of. At least they all acted their age. The closest thing I could compare Howard to was a spoiled child.

"Uh, yeah. Howard Stark."

"Ya know, you failed to mention we'd be meeting a millionaire here tonight."

I frowned a bit and threw back the rest of my liquor. "I think he actually might be a billionaire by now…"

"Oh, right, my bad," Steve scoffed. His expression was one of disbelief and he shook his head as he took another swig of beer. "How the hell do you know Howard Stark anyway?"

"We're working together on the polio vaccine," I said easily. The lie was in place now, there was no taking it back. At this point though, every person I told had some kind of connection to polio and I just _knew_ it was going to come back and bite me in the butt at some point.

The bartender swept by, indicating to my glass and I shook my head, asking for a glass of water instead. He took my glass and Steve's empty now beer bottle and drifted away.

"Polio vaccine, huh? A close family friend of ours, their son died of polio."

"Of course he did," I grumbled lowly. See? Repercussions, I could feel them building.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" I said airily, smiling over at Steve.

He knitted his eyebrows together, cocking his head slightly. He kind of reminded me of a puppy dog in that instant, but I decided not to comment on it. The guy didn't need any more shots to his ego.

"So how did Howard Stark of all people get to working on a polio vaccine? Isn't he an engineer?"

"Yeah, Stark's just helping fund it. I'm actually working with another scientist. Nice older fella."

"You're enjoying work then?"

I shrugged, thanking the bartender as he swept by, dropping off a tall glass of water for me as he headed to the other patrons. "I mean, yeah. Between getting the men ready for duty and working on the vaccine, I'm pretty busy, but I don't mind it."

"You still seem to have time for me. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're sweet on me, Jay," said Steve. He was grinning at me cheekily and I rolled my eyes.

I shoved the little man's shoulder lightly and chuckled. "In your dreams, Rogers. Besides, even if I was, I'm pretty sure James wouldn't be too thrilled with the idea."

Steve looked a bit confused for a moment before realization came to his eyes. "Oh, you mean Buck? Why—if you don't mind my asking—why don't you call him 'Bucky'? Everyone else does."

I shrugged, running my finger along the side of the water glass, collecting condensation my thumb pad. "I guess I just don't know him well enough. I feel like I haven't earned that right yet."

"Do you really not like him? At all?"

I snorted at Steve's confused look. "You sound surprised, Rogers," I commented.

"I mean, yeah, I guess I am. Left and right, girls throw themselves at Bucky. I'm used to seeing it, being ignored. But with you…that didn't happen. I mean, you aren't throwing yourself at me, either—and I don't expect you to," he added hastily, "—but you didn't even give him a second look. That's _never_ happened with an ordinary woman, and that isn't an exaggeration.

"Let me let you in on a little secret, Steve," I leaned over to the little blond's ear, and I swear, I could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. "I'm not an ordinary woman. And besides," I said, waving a hand aside and leaning back, partially afraid that if I stayed in Steve's personal space any longer that he'd spontaneously combust, "I have this thing called common sense. When I look at a guy, I want to find someone who isn't afraid of commitment, someone who I could settle down with. I'm not looking for fun, and Bucky's definitely just looking for fun. I just can't do that." I took a drink of water and then winced as I set the glass down. "And Frank," I added quickly. "I'm waiting for Frank."

But Steve didn't seem to hear my last statement, as his eyes had lit up. "You just called him 'Bucky'." He smirked in triumph.

"W-what? No I didn't," I said.

"Yes, yes you did!"

"Don't you dare tell him! He is still James to me! It's just because you're saying it…it just came out."

"Fine, I won't. But you owe me." There was a pause before Steve said, "I don't mean to pry, but you don't…I mean, you don't find him the least bit attractive?"

I sighed. Damn Steve and those curious eyes. "I guess," I began grudgingly, "I mean, I suppose…James is—He's…I—Well…" I closed my mouth, stopping the horrible word vomit and wincing at Steve's amused expression. I took a deep breath to gather my thoughts before opening my mouth to speak again. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'd be lying if I said I didn't think he was cute. Which he is. I mean, it's not like I didn't notice. But it's his entire demeanor, his personality that turned me off. He's cocksure, he's arrogant, he's too big for his pants. He needed knocked down a peg and I think I did just that."

"That you did, AJ, that you did. You know, it's probably against guy code or something, but between us, Buck didn't stop talking about you for at least a week last year when you first turned him down," said Steve with a small smirk.

I felt the tips of ears heat up and I swallowed, taking a drink of my ice water to hopefully extinguish the growing blush that was running up my neck. "Ohh-kay, that's enough talk about me and James."

"You're blushing!" said Steve excitedly.

"I am a warm-blooded woman who was just told that a decidedly attractive man talked about her for a week after she turned him down! Don't act so shocked, it doesn't mean anything! It just means I'm not dead!" I snapped lowly.

My attitude did not knock Steve down, but he only grinned at me wider. "Whatever you say, Jay…" he singsonged.

"Whatever," I grumbled. My blood settled in the silence as it grew between us and I glanced over at Steve, whose amused expression was gone. He was staring at the table at his folding hands, a little scowl on his lips. I reached out and touched Steve's arm lightly and his eyes met mine reluctantly. "You miss him," I stated bluntly. "You want him back."

"No," said Steve quickly. "No, I don't want him back. I should be out there, with him at basic." He frowned, his eyebrows scrunching together as he rubbed thumb across his bruised knuckles. He'd gotten in a fight earlier that day, on my account, no less.

We'd been walking back to the Recruitment Center, me and Steve, when a passing guy catcalled at me and made a few choice comments that weren't very appropriate. It took all of three seconds for Steve to start an argument and for him to get punched in the ribs, but not without throwing a few swings himself. Luckily, a couple guys were coming out of the center and they pulled the offender off of Steve and sent him along. I'd wrapped Steve's midsection and offered him a bandage for his knuckles as well but he didn't take it.

Instead, there he sat, staring at his bruised fist, a look of disgust on his face. "Yeah, I write him letters, yeah, he responds, but it's nothing like actually being there, Jay. I should be out there, learning how to fight. I want to help my country. I don't like bullies, but hell, I'm five feet and four inches for Heaven's sake! What can I do about it? Nothing! At least, that's what I'm always told. I'm halfway to believing them, AJ."

I squeezed Steve's arm and flipped it over, threading my fingers through his. "Hey, Steve? Look at me, Rogers."

Steve's baby blues reluctantly met my eyes and I could see years of frustration built up in them. "Look, Steve, I know how you feel. I'm a female scientist! _No one_ wants to see me succeed. And no one wants to see you succeed. You know why?"

"Why?" mumbled Steve.

"Because we have something that they don't. And everyone out there, they're all scared of it. We," I said, poking Steve's chest, "have heart. Steven Grant Rogers, you have the biggest heart I've ever seen on a person, and I'll be damned if you don't use it for something great. You're gonna change the world someday, Steve Rogers. Even while everyone tells you can't and you won't. You'll change the world, I'll bet my bottom dollar on it."

Steve looked at our intertwined fingers and then met my eyes. "You really think so?"

"No," I said adamantly. "I _know_ so."

Before I knew it, Steve's bony arms were thrown haphazardly around my shoulders. I hugged the frail man tightly, as tight as I could without crushing him.

"You're gonna change the world too, Adelyn Juliet Frost. It's just a matter of time," Steve whispered and I felt tears spring up in my eyes.

We both pulled away and I quickly wiped my eyes, not wanting to smudge my makeup, but not wanting to be out any longer either. "Looks like we're a force to be reckoned with, huh?" I commented.

"Looks that way," Steve agreed.

"So how about us two unstoppable forces go get some pie, huh? Something tells me Howard's not showing tonight," I said.

"Oh, really? What was your first clue?" joked Steve.

I rolled my eyes, telling the bartender to put our drinks on Howard's tab. I looped my arm through Steve's as we walked towards the exit of the club. "You're lucky I like you, Rogers."

"Yeah," said Steve quietly. "Yeah, I am. Thanks, AJ. For everything."

I smiled at Steve and we stopped in the doorway. Steve opened the door, signaling through. "After you, m'lady."

I leaned in quickly and gave Steve a friendly peck on the cheek. "You're welcome, Steve. It's my genuine pleasure." I looped my arm through his once more. "Now. Let's go get some pie."

* * *

 **February 22, 1943 – AJ's Apartment**

"You're sure you have everything?"

"Yes, Steve, I'm sure."

Both of us stood outside of my apartment, along with Jane and Lydia. My four suitcases, three overnight bags, and a couple of dresses on hangars were haphazardly thrown into my car, making the 1939 BMW a mess. The air was warm for late February and I was wearing a light cardigan over my dress to stay heated. There weren't too many cars going in the streets to early in the morning, which was lucky. I wouldn't hit traffic trying to get out of the inner city. The mood was a bit sullen and there were sad faces all around.

I had met with Colonel Chester Phillips and Howard just the other day. The serum was done. Or, close to being done. They wanted me to head out west to a little army camp in Wisconsin to look for candidates and make a few last touch-ups to the serum. I'd be with the soldiers for the last month of their basic training and hopefully have a complete serum and a candidate by the time it was over. I'd agreed, reluctantly, though. This meant leaving Steve, and I really didn't want to leave Steve. Not only had I promised James that I would stay with him, but the little man had grown on me in ways that I had never imagined. He was easily my best friend.

Steve's hands were shoved in his pockets and he was rocking back and forth on his heels. Lydia had already cried twice and was well on her way to doing so a third time. Jane was putting on a brave face, but I knew she'd probably be upset about it later in her and Lydia's joint apartment, like she'd done when I left our old apartment for another couple years at Harvard.

"So, uh, this is goodbye, then," said Steve awkwardly. He scratched the back of his head and looked down at his scuffed-up shoes. He hadn't looked me in the eye once all morning.

"Not goodbye," I said, pulling Steve into a hug. "I'll be back in a month or so." When I pulled away, I braced my hands on his shoulders. "That's not too bad, right?"

Steve met my eyes finally, his expression sad. "I guess not."

"And you have us, Stevie!" chirped Lydia through her tears. My blonde friend wrapped her arm around Steve's shoulders and pulled him into her. Lydia met my eyes with her watery gaze. "We're gonna miss you, AJ."

"Guys, it's not like she's going overseas. She's literally going to be in Podunk, Wisconsin for a few weeks, that's all," said Jane with a wave of her hand before frowning at Steve's face, which was now tinged blue. "Lyd, I think you're suffocating him."

"Oh, sorry!" Lydia released Steve, who inhaled deeply.

"No biggie!" he rasped, even though his voice sounded a tad strained.

Meanwhile, I wrinkled my nose at Jane. "I'm pretty Podunk isn't the name of the town. I'm not even sure I'm going to be near a town."

"No?" Jane grinned at me cheekily, folding her arms. "I'm pretty sure that's the name of every town in Wisconsin. Does anyone even _live_ in Wisconsin?"

"Oh, come off it, Jane," I said with a roll of my eyes.

"I'm a city girl, born and raised, and so are you, AJ. I don't think you're gonna have as much fun as you think."

"Oh-ho, I never said I was gonna have fun. In fact, it's probably going to be a nightmare," I defended.

"Right, a nightmare," drawled Steve. "An entire squad of muscular army recruits fawning over you, how horrific. I-I mean, from a woman's point of view," he added hastily.

I slapped Steve on the chest and made a face. "Might I remind you, Rogers, that I'm going to be the first female they've seen in the past two months. They aren't exactly going to trip over their feet to take me out to a nice dinner. They're going to be dogs, Steve, the whole lot of them. Testosterone fueled, lust driven, animalistic dogs."

"Nice to know that's how you think of us guys."

"Oh, you know what I mean," I growled while Steve laughed, pulling all three of my friends into a hug. "I'm gonna miss you guys," I whispered.

"We're gonna miss you too, AJ," said Steve.

We all pulled away after a few long moments, just enjoying each other's embrace for the last time for four weeks. I opened the door to my car and looked at each of them one last time. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Promise?" asked Steve and Lydia, their voices coming out in sync.

I laughed at the all of them: Jane rolling her eyes in reaction to the tips of Steve's ears turning a bright pink and Lydia's blush. "Promise. How could I ever stay away from you guys?"

I smoothed my dress down as I sat in the driver's seat and Steve shut my door for me. "You need anything, just call," he said.

"I'll write, too," I said. "To all of you."

"Right, well. You best be on your way." Steve slapped the roof of my car. "Be careful."

"I will. Bye, Steve. Bye, guys," I said, looking past the little blond man who had become my closest friend at my other two best friends.

"Bye, AJ," said Jane. "See you soon."

"Yeah," I said softly. I started the engine of my car and pulled away from the curb, my free hand pulling out Frank's silver cross and rubbing it anxiously. It was a habit I'd grown accustomed to, doing that when I was nervous. I thought about Frank for a second, hoping he was okay, but I didn't want to dwell. If I dwelled, I'd end up worrying, and I didn't want to worry. Frank would be fine. He said so. He'd be fine.

I honked the horn one last time as I drove away from my friends, checking the rearview mirror. Jane and Lydia were headed up the stairs back to my apartment, but Steve was still standing at the curb, hands in his pockets, looking after me as I drove away.

I watched Steve until I couldn't see him anymore. He never once turned away.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Author's Note:** I couldn't stop writing last night. Was up until 3AM. I looooove this story. I apologize to the folks waiting on my other works, this seems to be what's hitting right now. Everything else'll come around eventually. So I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I think you will. I _hope_ you will. I mean, I was half asleep writing this. Anyway! Follow, favorite, read, and review. Not necessarily in that order. Hope y'all have a nice day, and thanks for being supportive of my work!

 **Rating:** T for swearing and violence.

 **Disclaimer:** I don own Captain America. Just kidding, I only wish I did.

 **Editing:** All editing it done by me, all mistakes are mine.

 **Face Claim:** Sophia Bush (Like, the one random and totally convenient episode of _One Tree Hill_ set in 1941, which is actually perfect, what the heck, like that's luck. It's Episode 6.11 if anyone is wondering what I'm talking about.)

* * *

 _Chapter Seven_

 **February 23, 1943 – Camp McCoy, Wisconsin**

It was cold.

If one thing and only one thing could be said about Wisconsin in February, it's that it was cold. The snow was pretty much gone at Camp McCoy, but it was still only pushing about forty degrees. Yet, around me, men walked around in nothing but their white T-shirts and slacks with their kelly green over shirts tied around their waists. I'd gotten my fair share of looks as I got out of my car, as well as a few catcalls. It was nothing if not annoying. The other annoying thing seemed to be that I couldn't find where I was supposed to be going for the life of me.

All the buildings looked the same: big, plain, and towering. I couldn't tell the barracks from the mess hall from the munitions stockpile. The frozen dirt crunched under my feet as I made my way into the hub of the camp. I kept my papers and lab work clutched tightly to my chest while men stood around me, staring. Whispers filled the air. I knew I was the first woman they'd seen in the past two months or so, but this was a bit ridiculous.

A jeep drove past me, a drill sergeant sitting in the back barking orders. A unit of men jogged closely behind, panting like dogs. It was barely eight in the morning. There was no telling how long the men had been up and at it.

I was slightly irritated that neither Colonel Phillips nor Howard seemed to think it was a good idea to, I don't know, at least give me a way to _navigate_ the freaking camp, but there was no use dwelling on it. The sooner I got to lab area waiting for me, the better. At least it would be heated. I _hoped_ it would be heated.

"Hey there, dollface!"

My jaw clenched at the slang and I kept walking, head held high. This was not going to be my day. I could already feel it.

" 'Ey, don't you know when someone's talkin' to ya that it's polite to respond?"

"Ignore them, Jay, just keep walking," I muttered halfheartedly to myself.

Clearly that wasn't about to work out.

Two men flanked either side of me and one stood in front, slowing my purposeful stride to a halt. The boys to my sides were just that: _boys_ , no more than nineteen or twenty. Twins, by the looks of it. Same messy brown hair, same mischievous dark eyes. One of them, the one to my right had a scar on his left eyebrow, off to the corner. The man in front of me was older, late twenties I'd say, with carefully crafted dirty blond hair and roving green eyes that made me decidedly uncomfortable. His well-defined features were handsome, but cruel at the same time at I didn't like the way he was looking at me one bit. A cigarette dangled loosely from his lips, rings of smoke puffing towards me with every exhale.

"I was talkin' to ya just now, darlin'," he said, his southern drawl very well pronounced. "Didn't your mama e'er teach ya some manners? It's polite ta respond when someone is speakin' to ya."

"I'm sorry," I managed, trying to sound as sweet as I could without laying it on too thick. Howard had told me that if I just played along they'd leave me alone. Looking at them now, in the eye, I wasn't so sure. "It's just I really have to get to the lab to meet with Drs. Smith and Bateman. Important research."

"Research, eh? What the 'ell you doin' research on? The most effect dishwasher? Which bread is the best for sammichs? Because, uh, that's what you _should_ be researching, not nothin' that has to do with the army. You need ta leave the fighting ta us men, sweetheart."

I suppressed an eye roll, but one of my eyebrows rose without my permission. Beyond the three men surrounding me, other soldiers watched us with mild interest. Not one of them made a move to help me.

The man continued as he looked at his buddies. "And, uh…if you don't wanna research that…I got somethin' else you may wanna take a look 'n see at," he said with a waggle of his eyebrows. His left hand slapped his belt buckle and I swallowed roughly. His companions laughed. I did not. This was not going well. Not at all.

"Name's Rogers. Geoffrey Rogers. An' them two knuckleheads are Williamses."

I could barely hold back my bitter laughter. The fact that this man shared a last name with Steve seemed like a cruel joke. "Right. Well, if you kind men will excuse me, then I must be on my way," I said, trying to push past the sandy haired man.

His hand caught my forearm, sending me skidding to a halt and squeezing tighter than I would have imagined. He pulled me into his chest, cigarette smoke drifting across my face with each word, making my eyes water profusely. "Now, now, dollface, we was jus' getting' started." He smiled at me, but it was a dangerous smile.

I gulped. I should have stayed in Brooklyn. Stayed in Brooklyn where it was safe with Steve and Lydia and Jane and my family. Stayed with Howard and the good Dr. Erskine. But no, I had to be the one to find a recruit for the project. I'd have to have a word with Colonel Phillips when I got the chance. Provided I'd _have_ a chance.

"Hey! Leave her alone!"

Geoffrey's grip on my arm loosened just a fraction as he looked to my rescuer. I couldn't see whoever was coming to help me, but his voice was painfully familiar, but I couldn't place it for the life of me.

"Oh yeah? An' jus' what's gunna happen if I don't?"

"This." I heard footsteps and then a dark haired figure came into view as his fist connected with the Geoffrey's face. His grip on my arm fell slack as he tumbled to the gravel below. The twins on my sides instantly backed off, helping up Geoffrey. My attacker was cradling a bloody nose that was twisted at an awkward angle, obviously broken. The cigarette had tumbled out of his lips and was a few feet away, still smoking. Geoffrey Rogers said a few choice words before being hauled off by his companions.

I turned away from them as they walked off in the opposite direction. My heart was still racing and my forearm was throbbing where Geoffrey had a hold on me. I glanced at my arm. A handprint was wrapped around it, red and sore. I bruised quite easily and I was sure that was going to leave a nasty one.

I looked up to thank my savior, but his back was facing me. There was something familiar about his tall profile, but still, I couldn't place it. He was wringing his right hand and kissing his knuckles. He'd punched the man hard enough to break his nose, of course he'd have to pay the price of a bruised hand for that.

"I just wanted to say thank you—" I started as the man turned around.

"It's no big deal—" he had began, but we both stopped.

I found myself staring into those pale, icy blue eyes for a third time. His floppy brown hair was in desperate need of a trim, hanging down on his forehead and covering the tips of his ears. He was wearing the standard issue kelly green pants and white T-shirt, but instead of his shirt around his waist, he wore it, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Stubble had grown out on his defined jawline and his voice was a tad scratchier than I was used to, but before me stood none other than James Barnes.

His voice caught when he saw me and his head cocked slightly. "AJ?"

"James?" I managed, even though my throat had effectively closed. Oh, Steve was going to get a _kick_ out of this.

"It's-it's Bucky," he said. "Everyone calls me Bucky."

"Well, I'm not everyone," I said, regaining my composure. I stood up a bit straighter, my jaw set. I was not going to let the presence of James Barnes ruin my objective here.

"No, you certainly are not," James murmured, his eyes traveling me over once. It had been creepy when Geoffrey had done it, but I felt my neck flush while James did. "You, uh, you look great," he continued. "And I'm not just saying that 'cause you're the first girl I've seen in a few months." James stuck one of his hands casually in his pockets while he rubbed the back of his neck with the other. I pretended not to notice the way his white shirt rode up a bit on his waistline, exposing a fair bit of skin.

"T-Thanks," I muttered, my voice hitching a tad as I struggled to keep my eyes glued to his.

 _Lord have mercy_ , I thought as I swallowed, my throat and mouth unusually dry, _Think about Frank. Frank, who asked you to wait for him. Frank, who Daddy gave you permission to marry. Sweet, kind hearted Frank Jackson._

But thinking about sweet, kind hearted Frank Jackson could only get me so far when a scruffy James Barnes stood before, possibly looking more attractive than the last two times I'd seen him combined.

 _Snap out of it, Frost. Just because he saved you from the ass does_ not _mean he's your knight in shining armor. He's cocksure. He's arrogant. He's a soldier. Get over yourself._

An awkward silence had fallen between us. The tension was so thick, I could have cut it with a knife. Thankfully, James broke the silence. "How's Steve?"

"Steve? Oh, Steve's great. He can get through a conversation without stuttering or calling me a beautiful dame, so I'd say things are looking up."

James laughed at that and shook his head. "Sure sounds like Steve. Say, didn't I ask you to keep an eye on him? So what brings you all the way out here, Frosty?"

"First of all, don't call me that. Second of all, don't worry, I left Steve in good hands. Third of all, it's a, uh, project I'm working on. With Colonel Chester Phillips."

Bucky's— _James's_ , I corrected myself—nose wrinkled up. "That old guy? The one who formed that new unit thinger? What was it called…the…something with science…"

"The Strategic Scientific Reserve," I supplied. "The SSR."

James snapped his fingers. "Yeah, that. You're with them?"

"I'm more of a consultant for the time being, but yeah, you could say that."

"So, then what the heck you doin' out here in Podunk, Wisconsin?"

I couldn't help but smile as I thought of Jane back home, reclining in her comfy chair in the comfort of her apartment in Brooklyn. She'd be scandalized if she'd seen me right then, with James Barnes of all people. I couldn't resist. " 'Podunk?' " I asked playfully. "Let me guess: city boy, born and raised?"

James smirked and shrugged as he rocked back and forth on his heels, just like Steve did when he was nervous. "Yeah, something like that."

I snickered a tad and shook my head. "Well, I'm here on SSR business. The good colonel and the rest of us with the reserve believe we have something that has the potential to change the tide of this war. I'm here to see that through."

James whistled. "Well, that's somethin' then. Where ya headed?"

"The lab. I believe it's also coupled with my bunk, but of course, I can't tell the mess hall from…well, anything."

"Lab's on the far side of the camp," said James, nodding his head the opposite direction in which I was heading. "Past the barracks and the medical tent. I could, uh, show you there, if ya like, seeing as you were headed in the complete wrong direction." James gave me a sort of smirk coupled with an eyebrow raise.

I scowled, but it was more playful than anything, which I hated. I didn't want to. No, I didn't one bit. I didn't like it, it was a terrible idea, but I was also terrible with directions. There was no way I'd make it to the lab without some assistance, and James certainly seemed like the only one around to give it to me. That was a pretense I absolutely despised. I was hopelessly lost without the help of James Barnes. The idea made want to hurl.

 _You're being hard on him_ , said a small voice in the back of my head. _He's just trying to help. Besides, he hasn't really said anything remotely flirtatious yet._

I realized with a start that that incessant little voice in the back of my head was right. James somehow seemed…different than the past two times I'd seen him. It seemed like he'd sobered up in the arrogance department. Being surrounded by nothing but testosterone must've really been a shock to him. I was kinda surprised that he wasn't throwing everything he had at me right then. On the other hand, after what had just transpired, he probably figured that'd scare me away. And it would have.

I smiled at James tentatively. "Yeah. Yeah, uh, that'd be great. Thank you, James."

The hand rubbing his neck dropped and I could finally breathe again as his shirt covered his midriff. His trademark lopsided grin appeared on his face like magic, erasing all evidence of his previously nervous nature and his hands were lazily stuck into his pockets. He did a complete one-eighty. It was like he was that draftee in that recruitment center once more, cocksure and ready. But the act was off. It was different. _He_ was different. "Great! Right this way, Frosty."

"Quit callin' me that!" I hissed again as we began walking, James a half step in front of me.

James looked over his shoulder at me and grinned. "I'll stop callin' you that as soon as you start callin' me 'Bucky'."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "That's not fair."

James laughed and shrugged. "I got drafted, Steve's an eighty pound asthmatic, you're stuck here with a bunch of testosterone fueled soldiers…life ain't fair, AJ."

"Fair point," I muttered. "But I don't have to like it."

We lapsed into a more comfortable silence now that we'd eased into each other's companies and I was reminded once again that I'd previously thought that perhaps, in another life, James and I could have been great friends. Now here we were, in the same place for the next month, getting that chance. My nana had always said that fate was a funny thing. Fate had a cruel sense of humor then, crossing my and the undeniably handsome James Barnes's paths as many times as it could. _Especially_ when I still had Frank to think about. Each time we took a step, our footsteps in sync, James's arm brushed neutrally against mine. _Frank_ was getting increasingly more difficult to keep in mind. It was even harder considering I'd still never taken the time to really think about where we stood and whether I loved him or was in love with him or neither at all. I subtly drifted a tad to my right, putting a bit of distance between James and me. Just enough that he wasn't brushing up against me as we walked.

The rest of the walk to the lab was silent, though not particularly uncomfortable. I know I had a lot on my mind and James seemed to as well. After what felt like forever, James stopped and I skidded to a halt beside him at another plain looking building, just like the rest.

"Well, this is it," said James as he began to rock on his heels again. His lopsided grin was still in place, but it was a little unsure too. "Thanks for letting me walk you. You're a breath of fresh air compared to everyone else around here." He wrinkled his nose. "And I mean that figuratively _and_ literally. I mean seriously, some of these guys need to make their way to a shower, no matter how cold the water."

I found myself laughing and James's eyes seemed to light up as he grinned right along with me.

"Let me know how it goes, okay? Hopefully we'll see each other 'round, Frosty. I wasn't kiddin' when I said we'd make a good pair. Of friends, that is," he added hastily.

"Yeah," I found myself saying to my own surprise. "Yeah, I will. And I should be thanking you for walking me. I'd rather not risk my chances of running into another Geoffrey. Or getting lost."

"Yeah, well. Geoff's an ass, but he's all talk. If he ever tries anything, or anyone does, ya just holler, okay? I'm only a call for help away. This ain't gonna be no walk in the park for you. And uh…" A light smile, not a smirk like I was used to, but a genuine smile played on his lips. "You didn't correct me on the 'Frosty' thing that time."

I felt my ears heat up and I shook my head. "Whatever, James. But seriously, thank you."

"Yeah," said James nodding, suddenly solemn. "Yeah, sure. Well, uh, I better get goin'. See you around then?"

"Sure," I said. "I'll see you around."

James smiled and I smiled back and turned to go when I heard, "Oh, and Frosty!" I didn't turn around and heard a disgruntled sigh of annoyance. "Fine. AJ?"

I turned and smirked at him. "Yes, James?"

"Steve…you're sure he's alright? You mean, you really left him with some good people. At least someone's lookin' out for him, right?"

My smirk turned into a soft smile and I nodded. "Yeah. Don't you worry about Steve. He's just fine."

Relief seemed to fill James and his posture sort of relaxed as a peaceful smile spread across his face. "Thanks, AJ. You know, for keeping an eye on him."

"It was my pleasure, James. He's a nice guy and he's lucky to have a friend like you."

Curiosity filled James's expression. "You mean that?"

"I do," I said sincerely.

"And here I thought you hated me," said James, his lazy grin returning. "Of course you don't, how can anyone hate this face, am I right?"

I rolled my eyes and blew out a breath, fighting the amused smile threatening to break out on my face. "Oh, you're something alright, James Barnes. Don't push your luck."

James laughed. "Right, right, I'm sorry. I do have to go though, so I'll talk to ya later Frosty!"

"Bye, James," I said, lifting my hand in a wave.

James turned and walked off, his hand raised in the air, returning the gesture. I leaned against the door to the lab, exhaling loudly. Yeah. This was going to be a longer month than I'd expected.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Author's Note:** I'm sooooo sorry about the wait on this. I was at my camp last week, this week I'm on vacation, and I'm on vacation next week as well. July is a super busy month for me and I apologize for not letting you guys know that. But, I finally found time to get this typed up, so yeah. So, please, follow, favorite, and review, if you feel so inclined, cause I wanna know what you guys are thinking so far! That said, enjoy this chapter!

 **Rating:** T for swearing and violence.

 **Disclaimer:** I don own Captain America. Just kidding, I only wish I did.

 **Editing:** All editing it done by me, all mistakes are mine.

 **Face Claim:** Sophia Bush (Like, the one random and totally convenient episode of _One Tree Hill_ set in 1941, which is actually perfect, what the heck, like that's luck. It's Episode 6.11 if anyone is wondering what I'm talking about.)

* * *

 _Chapter Eight_

 **February 23, 1943 – The Laboratory, Camp McCoy, Wisconsin**

After I'd finally collected my thoughts after my surprising talk with James, I turned and wrenched the door to the lab open, scurrying in quietly. Shutting the door behind me, I leaned against it a moment and took in the lab.

It was brightly lit, with an array of workbenches and tables spread across the open floor. Beakers and test tube racks littered the tabletops, along with a few Bunsen burners, an Erlenmeyer flask bubbling over, and a small, open flame, right on top of one of the wooden tables that was steadily burning a hole through the surface.

I was relieved to find that, yes, the interior was heated and it was significantly warmer inside. Shedding off my coat, I was about to yell to see if anyone was around when I heard muffled talking.

"A girl?"

"Well, uh, yessir, that's what Dr. Erskine said—"

"And she's the one that perfected the serum?"

"Um, yes, and—"

"Well, there must be some mistake, a woman couldn't possibly have figured out something so complex. She's probably not even qualified to be in this lab.

I raised an eyebrow and scowled. Of course one of them didn't think I could do my job. I knew this wasn't going to be easy.

"Uh, sir, I think you should know that—"

Two men came around the corner and I was able to match faces to voices instantly. One of the men was tall with blond hair that was graying around the edges only slightly. He had a goatee grown out and was incredibly attractive for someone his age, which I put around his mid forties. He was also the asshole who didn't think I was qualified to be in said lab.

"When is she arriving?"

Both men stopped upon seeing me.

"…Today," the other one said, swallowing roughly. He was thin and tall, with longish, curly dark hair and shifty eyes, and seemed to be maybe in his late twenties. He couldn't seem to hold still. Whether he was brushing his hair to the side or fixing his glasses, his hands were always moving. He had a beard, like the one of an outdoorsman: scruffy and unkempt. His voice shook slightly and his accent was foreign. I would have said British at my best guess. Upon seeing me, and the open flame catching his eye a moment later, he let out a yelp and stripped off his lab coat and began beating the table with it.

"I see." The blond man sized me up and sighed, seemingly defeated, all the while scowling at his partner. "You must be Ms. Frost."

"Doctor," I instantly corrected, my voice icy. "Dr. Frost."

"…Right. Well, I'm afraid to announce that Dr. Erskine made some…miscalculations. We don't need you here, we're doing right fine on our own, so if you could just head back to New York and—"

"I'm not going anywhere. I was sent here to a job and I'm going to do it," I interrupted, glaring at the man. My gaze was unwavering and he seemed a bit unnerved by my insistence.

He cleared his throat. "And what, pray tell, what job is that?"

The lab had gotten suddenly quiet as the other man had put out the small fire. He was walking over to us, sliding on the jacket, which now had a large hole in it, surrounded by blackened threads. I swallowed and held out the files in my arms. "Profiles of soldiers. Twenty candidates hand-picked by Colonel Phillips who are at basic here at Camp McCoy. I'm to sort through them, see if any are worthy of Project Rebirth."

"So why do you need access to my lab?"

"To make adjustments. And it's not your lab, Doc," I added as I started inside, twirling around to look at the interior a bit closer. "It's the government's." _And it's a mess_ , I silently added to myself. When I wasn't working, I had a feeling I'd be too busy cleaning up the place to worry about running into Bucky—James.

The other scientist—the European one—scurried over to me, away from the rude doctor, and started speaking so fast, I could barely keep up. "A couple soldiers came in last week and cleaned out one of the rooms where you'll be staying. There's a bed and dresser and trunk in there for all of your personal belongings, which were already delivered in from your car—"

I looked at him while he led me along to what presumably were my quarters. "My car?" I asked sharply.

"Yes, your car. A few of the privets brought all of your suitcases and handbags. That's alright, I presume?" He looked nervous, like I was about to start yelling at him. His eyes flickered to me, then back to the door ahead that we'd stopped in front of, and then back at me. I dropped my eyes to his hands subtly while he looked away. His thumbs were twiddling anxiously.

"Are…Are you alright?" I asked cautiously.

He jumped a fraction at the sound of my voice and then nodded furiously. "Oh yes, very fine, I'm excellent, actually. Just, uh, just a bit jumpy. It's medical."

"Right," I said, but I wasn't quite convinced. "I don't believe I caught your name?"

"Oh, yes, my name is Doctor Colin Smith. But, um, you can call my Sully. Everyone does. Except Dr. Bateman. It's my middle name. Uh, Sullivan, not Sully. But you get it." He stopped talking abruptly and stuck his hand out.

I smiled as I shook his hand. I liked the twitchy fellow, no matter how odd he might have been. "Doctor Adelyn Frost. But you can call me—"

"AJ," Sully supplied. Then he blushed and blundered on when he said my raised eyebrow. "I-I mean, that's what Dr. Erskine called you. That's it, right?"

"That's it," I affirmed. "And the other one…?"

Sully's jaw set as he looked back into the main lab area. The blond doctor was at one of the lab benches, leaning over a beaker, dumping the contents of a test tube inside. The instant the liquid collided with the other, the beaker began foaming and the blond doctor stumbling back as the substance spit out of the top. "That's Doctor Erik Bateman. He's the senior doctor here and treats the rest of us like complete idiots. He seems to think everyone who works here except for him is mentally impaired. The other two who work with us are just assistants, but they're as smart as you or I. They just got the short end of the stick. Nathaniel Adams and Quentin Belfort. They're at the mess hall getting breakfast. You'll meet them soon enough."

I nodded. "So you're saying steer clear of Dr. Bateman?"

Sully nodded his affirmative. "For as long as you can."

"Noted," I said and gestured to the door. "So, this where I'm staying?"

"Erm, yeah, let me show you in." Sully grasped the door handle and swung open the door. Inside was nicer than I expected. The floor was carpeted and my bed was off to the side. A trunk sat at the foot, open. My dresser was on the other side of the room and between was a desk with a mirror and a stool. In the middle of the room sat all of my suitcases and bags, ready to be unpacked. "I know it's small, but—"

"It's perfect," I said with a smile, looking at Sully. If I didn't know any better, Sully seemed to blush a bit.

"So, uh, I have work to do on Bateman's orders, but if you need anything, I'll be in the main lab area. Are you interviewing today?"

I shook my head. "No, I think I'll get a feel for the place first. Find my way around, do some reading."

Sully nodded along with me. "Seems like a good plan. It's kind of a lot to take in at first, so it'll be nice to get settled."

"SMITH! Get out here!" Bateman's voice echoed from the main lab.

Sully winced. "I better get going before Bateman has a heart attack. I'll see you around then, AJ."

"Yeah," I said, smiling softly. "See you around."

Sully tucked his hands in his lab coat and turned around, jogging off to the main lab. He nearly tripped not once, but twice, and for the sake of his ego, I pretended not to notice when he turned around to see if I'd seen.

I dropped off the files on my desktop and opened one of my suitcases, which was full of books. I had everything from Lewis Carroll to Jack London to Oscar Wilde packed inside, ready for a boring month of interviewing and being ogled by soldiers. I rifled around inside until I found what I was looking for. My old, battered copy of _A Study in Scarlet_ , by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. My dad had given it to be when I turned ten and it was the first time I became remotely interested in reading. The copy was worn down, pages yellowed and dog-eared, and the cover was falling apart, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

I shut the door to my little studio and made my way towards the front door when a voice stopped me. "Frost!"

I tightened my jaw and turned around to face Dr. Bateman. Sully stood a few feet behind him, looking at me sadly. _I'm sorry_ , he mouthed. I offered him a little shrug before looking at Bateman. "Yes, Doctor?"

He approached me slowly, his hands behind his back. "I want to make something clear to you, Frost. You do not _touch_ my lab equipment without special permission. In fact, I don't even want to see you anywhere near the lab benches. There is no reason you should be working here with us, nor should you be, period. Women aren't qualified for science. It's just the way things are. Erskine's an optimistic guy. His hopes for this serum, and you for that matter, are way too high. One confused old man can't change the world, or the tide of the war, like he thinks he can, much less a woman. The only way we're going to take out the Axis is with proven science work, like Smith and I do. Not the rubbish you and Erskine think you're accomplishing. Do I make myself clear?"

I felt like I'd been sucker punched. Sure, I was used to verbal abuse when I came from my field of work, but it was never as outright as it had been right then. I felt tears pricking the corners of my eyes and I nodded furiously, turning away and rushing to the front door.

"I didn't hear you!" snapped Bateman.

I turned around angrily, looking at the blond man, who had a large smirk on his face with one hand cupped around his ear.

"Crystal," I hissed before turning back and leaving the lab, slamming the door with enough force to shake the entire structure.

* * *

 **That Same Day…**

I lost track of time quickly.

After storming out of the lab with my book clutched tightly in one hand, I made a mad dash out of the main hub of the camp. I wasn't really sure where I was headed, but it was far, far from Doctor Erik Bateman.

By the time I found where I wanted to be, hot tears were rushing down my cheeks. I collapsed under a tree, just past the barracks. I wiped my eyes quickly, drying the face, and cracked open Doyle's first masterpiece, determined to read my troubles away.

And that's how I lost track of time.

The day got warmer as the hours went on. I read each page slowly, not wanting to have to return to the lab to get another novel, even though some of them got wet due to my crying. Luckily, though, I didn't have to go back. A figure settled in the grass next to me, but I didn't look up from my book. I didn't _want_ to look up.

"You know," said a familiar voice, "You've been sittin' here for almost six hours."

I looked up to find James sitting there, an amused grin on his face. He leaned back against the tree trunk, one knee pulled to his chest, his arm draped over top. The moment I locked eyes with him, the smile erased from his face and he looked concerned. "What's wrong, Frosty? You look like you were cryin'."

I wiped my eyes again, but it didn't matter. They were dry, but probably red and puffy still. I sighed and tossed my book aside, leaning back against the tree with him. "Dr. Bateman's an asshole," I muttered.

James frowned and ran a hand through his messy hair, putting a few strands back into place (and displacing a few as well). "Bateman? The old blond guy?"

"Yeah," I sniffled.

"Why? What'd he say to ya?"

"He said the work that I was doing with Dr. Erskine was pointless and stupid. That it wouldn't change the tide of the war. It wouldn't change anything."

Bucky— _James_ , dammit—tilted his head at me curiously. "That all he said?"

I sniffed and ground my teeth together. "He said I didn't belong in a lab. That I wasn't qualified to work with him."

"Well that jackwagon doesn't know what he's talkin' about then. You're one of the smartest gals I ever met," said James with a sharp nod.

I chuckled a bit and shook my head. "How do you know? You don't know the first thing about me."

"Well, I know you don't like me, which means you've definitely got a bright head on your shoulders. And I know that Steve likes ya which means you've got real character. And I know that if you weren't smart, you wouldn't have been picked for this program, which means you're real intelligent. Also I got a gut feeling, and usually my gut's right."

"That's a lot of faith in a girl you barely know," I managed through a watery smile.

"Yeah, well. Call it instinct, or whatever. I just know you're brilliant and you can probably do anything you put that pretty little head of yours to." James shrugged and grinned at me, his blue eyes brighter than I'd ever seen them.

I was pretty sure my heart stopped in that moment.

"Thank you," I said softly. "You aren't a bad guy, you know that? You just have questionable intentions, sometimes."

James mockingly gasped. "AJ! Are you actually starting to…dare I say it…like me?"

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "Not on your life," I said and stood up, grabbing my novel.

"Hey, hey, not like that," grunted James as he struggled to catch up to me as I started walking away. "You know, as friends. I _am_ capable of being friends with a girl, contrary to you belief."

"Oh really?"

"Mhm," James hummed.

"Great, dinner with me at six, then?" James looked at me sharply as I continued. "I don't have any friends here yet, if that's what we're gonna be. I'd like to get to know you more, James."

"Bucky," he said automatically. "I'll eat my dinner with you if you call me Bucky." He grinned at me and wiggled his eyebrows. "Deal?"

I sighed. "Fine."

"Fine…?"

"Fine, _Bucky_ ," I stressed. The handsome soldier smiled winningly at me and I cursed female hormones. No man should be that attractive. Not one. If I ever met his parents—you know, for… _whatever_ reason—I wasn't sure if I would thank them or slap them.

"That's better. See, wasn't that hard, was it?" James—oh, I guess now he's _Bucky_ —stuck his hands loosely in his pockets and walked back towards the main camp grounds with me. "So…what are ya gonna do then for the next three hours or so?"

I shrugged. "Get a feel for the camp. Maybe go to the mess hall and meet the other lab assistants. I dunno. Don't _you_ have somewhere to be though, soldier?" I asked playfully.

Bucky groaned and avoided eye contact. "I mean, _technically_ , yeah…"

I slapped his chest. "Go do you job then! I'm fine."

He looked at me skeptically. "You sure? You was cryin' earlier, and I'd never forgive myself if I left ya high and dry like that."

"Seriously, I'm fine James—"

Bucky raised an eyebrow at me with a smirk.

"— _Bucky_ ," I corrected. Bucky grinned and I rolled my eyes.

"Alright, but if you need anything, I'll be at the shooting range. Or, at least, that's where I'm s'posed to be. No guarantees, though."

"Shouldn't you, ya know, actually listen to your superiors while you're here?" I asked.

Bucky looked at me and winked, putting a finger to his lips. "Shhh."

We stopped at a crossroads. The shooting range was the opposite direction of the way I was going, and Bucky grinned at me lightly. "This is where I leave ya. So, mess hall at six, then?"

"Mess hall at six," I agreed.

"You mind if I bring a few men? Not the rude ones," he said quickly. "Just two of my friends. I told 'em about you. Said they wanna meet ya."

I was a bit surprised. I wasn't honestly sure if I wanted anyone else there. Bucky was so _easy_ to talk to without anyone else around and I really didn't want to share him, in a friendly way, that was. Obviously. But I also figured anyone Bucky was friends with couldn't be that bad. After all, he was best friends with Steve Rogers back in Brooklyn, and I trusted Bucky's judgment. "Uh, yeah, sure. We can eat back under that tree. I do like it there."

Bucky's smile got even wider as he took a few steps backward in the direction of the shooting range. "Sounds good. So, I'll see you in a few hours then?"

"Yeah, see you then," I said with a smile of my own. I started walking off when I heard:

"AJ!"

I looked over my shoulder. Bucky had stopped. "You and Erskine…" he said, his facial features tightly screwed together like he was thinking. "You _are_ gonna change the tide of this war. That Bateman fella's just too damn stupid to see it. You can do anything you put your mind to, Jay. I believe that."

I felt my cheeks flush and it felt like it had gotten at least ten degrees warmer outside. "Thanks, Bucky," I said softly.

Bucky didn't say anything, but he smiled and started walking backwards again before turning around completely, his hands stuck lazily in his pockets.

I wanted to look away, I really did, but my eyes stayed glued to his back until I couldn't see him anymore, his words replaying themselves over and over again in my head. _You can do anything you put your mind to, Jay. I believe that._


	10. Chapter Nine

**Author's Note:** I got one done! Ah, yes, I love the challenge of deciding how to make OCs. Geez, a lot of them sure seem to be making an appearance, don't they? If any of you guys want faces to match all of them up with, just ask (review or PM, whatever), and I'll post a list for you all next chapter. Speaking of chapters, here's the next one! Read, review, favorite, and follow if you feel so inclined and I hope you all enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I'm actually Stan Lee and own everything. (Just kidding, please don't sue me.)

 **Editing:** All editing it done by me, all mistakes are mine.

 **Face Claim:** Sophia Bush (Like, the one random and totally convenient episode of _One Tree Hill_ set in 1941, which is actually perfect, what the heck, like that's luck. It's Episode 6.11 if anyone is wondering what I'm talking about.)

* * *

 _Chapter Nine_

 **February 23, 1943 – The Mess Hall, Camp McCoy, Wisconsin**

I found myself lazily walking around the camp. Part of me really wanted to go drop off my copy of _A Study in Scarlet_ , but all of me wanted to avoid Dr. Erik Bateman for as long as I possibly could. His words still stung, but Bucky had effectively lifted my spirits in some type of way. It was strange, but I was glad that I had him there with me, no matter how arrogant or annoying he could be. A familiar face was nice to say the least.

In no time though, I found myself hopelessly lost, in a part of the camp that I hadn't been to yet. I suppressed a groan of annoyance, wishing I'd asked Buck for directions to the mess hall to meet the two lab assistants. The worst part was that there weren't even any soldiers in sight to ask, so it was surprisingly quiet, minus the exception of occasional gun fire from the shooting range.

With a sigh, I kept walking, figuring I'd eventually find a place I'd recognize, or at least someone to ask where the mess hall was. Unfortunately though, I figured the boys would be gone anyway by the time I found my way there. I didn't even know who I was looking for. Well, I did, but I didn't have faces to match the names to. This was going to be harder than I thought.

As I walked, my mind roamed and found its way to Frank Jackson. Frank Jackson, who was currently in Africa, fighting for his life and our freedom. Who had asked me to marry him and I'd turned him down. That hadn't destroyed him though and he'd asked for me to wait for him. The man was in love with me, there was no doubt about it. I'd seen that same love struck expression on the faces of actors in films countless times. It was almost painful knowing that I didn't fully feel the same way.

With a startling realization, I came to that decision just then. I didn't love Frank. Okay, no, let me rephrase. I did love him, but I wasn't _in_ love with him. Not like he was with me. I loved him, I shared affection for him, but it wasn't head-over-heels in love, the stuff of books or movies or romantic tales. I just didn't reciprocate Frank's undying love for me, and I hated myself for it.

What was wrong with me? A mannered, very handsome man literally was throwing himself at my feet, and I was turning him down. I _had_ turned him down, and here I was, thinking on how I was going to tell him when he got back from war. He was going to get back from literal Hell on earth, and I was going to break up with him. The sheer thought made me sick to my stomach, and thinking about the hurt look on his face made it even worse. My mind drifted to Bucky and I realized that he didn't even know that I was seeing anyone. And then I hated myself for even _thinking_ about Bucky as I thought about Frank. Bucky had nothing to do with the way I felt about Frank Jackson.

 _But he doesn't exactly help,_ said a small voice in the back of my head.

 _Shut up,_ I told it.

I groaned out loud and hadn't even realized that I'd stopped walking, my fingers subconsciously wrapped around the chain of Frank's silver cross. I winced and closed my eyes for a second, dropping the necklace, hating the concept of emotions with every fiber of my being. I hated the fact that I loved Frank but I wasn't in love with him. I hated the little tug in my chest that gave way every time I saw Bucky, despite my attachment to Frank, which I was sure I was going to break.

"You okay there?"

I gave a little yelp and spun around, clutching my book to my chest. Behind me stood two men, dressed in regular slacks and suspenders, with button-up shirts. The first man's shirt was white, the top two buttons undone, his black suspenders clinging to his frame, hands dug into his pockets. His black hair was slicked to the side, his pale blue eyes bright with amusement. He was a good few inches taller than the other and significantly more muscular. The other man's suspenders were lopsided as one kept falling down his right shoulder. His shirt was black and unbuttoned and terribly untucked with a white undershirt underneath. His blond hair was mussed up and a few days stubble stuck to his chin. He was grinning lightly.

"Don't you guys know not to sneak up on a girl in an army base full of men?" I demanded. "I have to be on guard enough with all these hoggish soldiers around…"

The dark haired one snorted. I realized with a start that they vaguely reminded me of Bucky and Steve. "Hoggish soldiers? All men are hoggish, doll, including us." He winked at me. I rolled my eyes.

"Hoggish? Speak for yourself, I am a perfect gentleman," said the smaller man. He smiled at me. "Excuse him, he hasn't seen a lady in weeks, much like me, but I know how to control myself."

Okay. They _really_ reminded me of Bucky and Steve.

The fair haired one stuck his hand out to me. "Quentin Belfort," he said as I lightly grasped his hand. It was unnervingly soft. Using his other hand, he jerked a thumb at his companion. "That's—"

"Nathaniel Adams," the taller man interjected, extending a hand. I shook his as well, and it was rough and calloused, a sharp contrast compared to Quentin's. "We're the lab assistants here. You must be Dr. Frost?"

"AJ," I supplied. "Sully told me about you two."

"Ah, yes old Sullivan. If you've met him then you must've met Sharkbait too?"

I looked him sharply. " 'Sharkbait'?" I asked.

Nathaniel grinned at me. "That's what all of us call Bateman. Not to his face, of course. It's in the hopes that one day he'll become what his name insinuates. Shark bait."

"So he's really that bad all the time?" I asked, dreading the answer. A knot had tied itself in my stomach at the mere thought of Bateman, with his cold blue eyes and degrading smirk. I had a feeling his goal was to make my stay at Camp McCoy complete Hell and so far he was succeeding.

"Yep, all the time," confirmed Quentin. "He seems to think he's God's gift to scientists everywhere and the rest of us are incurably stupid. And yet yesterday, I watched him set his own lab coat on fire. It doesn't help that he's always drinking, either."

I looked up at Quentin, my eyes widening slightly. "He drinks in the lab?"

"A lot," confirmed Quentin. "An alcoholic for sure. Nate and I…we think…" Quentin cleared his throat, but still didn't speak.

"We think he hits Sully," finished Nate.

My expression went carefully blank and I felt my blood begin to boil. "Hit Sully? Like… _hit_ hit him?"

Nate sighed. "Yeah."

"I wish his lab coat would have caught _him_ on fire. I would have paid to see that," I grumbled lowly.

We'd started to walk together, though I wasn't really sure where we were heading. The boys were wordlessly leading the way.

"Already have something against him?" Nathaniel asked.

"He said some things," I replied cryptically, not really wanting to delve into the subject. Tears were already pricking my eyes just talking about Bateman. "And if you guys think he hits Sully, I wouldn't be surprised."

"I won't ask," Adams continued. "We all have Bateman stories we don't want to share. He is quite awful. The first day I got here he told me I was an inerudite jock and that I had no place in the lab."

"You do sports?" I asked.

Adams grinned at my wording. "I play baseball. Or, I used to, until I got drafted for lab work with Bateman. Don't get me wrong, I love it. The concept of the serum, kicking some German and Japanese ass, and getting the USA the win…it would be a dream come true. I just wish Bateman wasn't a part of it."

"We all do, bud," said Quentin with a sigh. He locked eyes with me and shrugged. "But we make do, I suppose. There's not really a thing we can do about it, am I right?"

"You are," I said.

We lapsed into silence for a moment until Quentin spoke again. "So where were you headed, AJ?"

"I'm…not sure," I confessed. "I was just walking, really."

"A little cold to be 'just walking', don't ya think?" teased Nathaniel.

I realized with a start that he was right. It _had_ gotten quite chilly. I'm not sure what I expected. It was winter in Wisconsin. My arms tightened a bit more around my torso and shiver ripped through my spine. "I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts, I hadn't realized," I muttered.

"Well, a penny for your thoughts then, Ms. Frost?" suggested Nathaniel.

I glanced up at him. He wore a radiant grin that seemed to light up his entire face. His pale blue eyes danced with amusement and in that moment, he really did remind me of Bucky. He was handsome, but not nearly as so as James Buchanan Barnes. But of course, maybe I was a tad biased.

"Well, Mr. Adams, I barely know you," I said, smirking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I suppose that is true, but this is a wonderful way to get to know each other."

"There are other ways to get to know each other that don't include me divulging my innermost thoughts to you, Nathaniel."

"Please, it's Nate. And you're right, there are. Have dinner with me? I-I mean, us."

I gave him a pointed look.

"Okay, yeah, I just meant me."

I rolled my eyes and couldn't hold in my snort as I heard Quentin groan beside me. "I have plans tonight, thank you very much," I said. Not _I have a boyfriend_ , or _I'm taken_ , but that I was busy. I swallowed my guilt and remorse.

"Busy?" Nate's nose scrunched up quite adorably. "With what? You're on an army base full of hoggish men, you said so yourself!"

"And you told me you're one of those hoggish men."

"I was kidding!"

"Right…" I said. Beside me, Quentin burst into laughter, unable to contain it through short coughs or clearing his throat.

"She's telling you off, Nate, let it go," he said when he finally stopped snickering.

"Yeah, yeah. You really have something going on then?"

I nodded. "Dinner with a friend," I confirmed.

"On an army base? Here? You have friends?"

"Girls and guys can be friends, you know, contrary to popular belief."

"I'll believe it when I see it," grunted Nate. "But you have around three hours or so…plans?"

"None," I said.

"Hang out with us, then," piped up Quentin. "I've been dealing with this jockstrap for the last month without anyone else to talk to. Other than Sully and Sharkbait, but Sully's too scared of Sharkbait to leave and Sharkbait's an asswipe."

I must have not looked convinced because Quentin folded his hands and pushed out his lower lip. "Please?" he begged.

I rolled my eyes as a smile tugged at my lips. "Fine. But only because you said please."

And that's how I ended up spending almost three hours with Nathaniel Adams and Quentin Belfort. I discovered in that span of time that the boys were surprisingly down to earth. Both of them reminded me a lot of Steve and I was happy to see there were more guys like him out there.

Nathaniel had been raised by a single mother with two younger sisters, twins. He'd been the man of the house, essentially. I realized that he was one of the sweetest people I'd ever met. Both of them were great listeners while I told them about my first meeting with Sharkbait, and while Quentin just liked to listen, Nate liked to put in his two sense and when he spoke, he always seemed to say exactly what I needed to hear, whether it was putting down Sharkbait or telling me to not listen to his crap, in nicer words.

Quentin was quiet. I liked him, but he was just a quiet fella who definitely preferred listening to speaking or giving advice. While we spent the day together, Nate did most of the talking and sometimes Quentin piped in here and there, but it wasn't often. But when he did, he was a funny guy who didn't seem to realize it. When I laughed at something he said, he always got this surprised look on his face and smiled brightly.

I liked the two lab assistants quite a bit. It was calming to know that I had friends on the base and I wasn't completely alone.

Eventually, we found ourselves back at the lab. It was fifteen minutes to six, when I was supposed to meet Bucky and his friends under the tree for dinner. Nate and Quentin looked at me uneasily.

"You have to put your book away sometime," said Nate with a half smile.

He was right. I was still holding onto my copy of Doyle's book in my hands and I really wanted a coat. The sun was just starting to go down and it was getting colder. The only thing that was stopping me from entering the lab was the sinking feeling that Sharkbait was inside, presumably leaning over some lab bench and yelling orders at poor Sully who didn't deserve to be treated like an undereducated moron.

"Can sometime be in the middle of the night when Sharkbait's asleep?" I asked hopefully in a small voice.

"Sharkbait likes to work through the nights. I swear he's nocturnal," said Quentin dryly. "He's loud about it, too."

I groaned. "You two realize I have to sleep in there!"

Nate quirked an eyebrow. "In the lab?"

"Back room."

"Oh. That's why Sully said I couldn't build my battle bot back there."

"Your _what_?" I asked.

"Battle bot. Like a fighting robot. Not a big one, but like, the size of a really small dog."

"That is the stupidest idea I've heard," I said blankly.

Nate made a face at me. "It'll catch on, you'll see."

I giggled. "In your dreams, Adams."

I sobered up as I faced forward towards the door of the lab. Inside, I could hear voices, indistinct, but one sounded loud and angry and the other was much quieter and feeble. I heard a crash and exchanged panicked looks with Quentin and Nate.

Before any of us said anything, Nate pushed between us and entered the lab, Quentin and I hot on his heels. Sully was getting up from the ground, his nose dribbling blood. Sharkbait had diverted his attention to us, his blue eyes cold with hate. They became even colder, if possible, when they landed on me. He sneered at us. "Well, well, well, looks like the morons found Little Miss Scientist." His voice was a bit slower and a tad slurred. Nate and Quentin hadn't been lying, of course. As we got closer to him, I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

The lab was a mess. A clear liquid had spilled all over one of the benches, presumably the one Sharkbait and Sully were working at, and they were avoiding it like the plague. One of the beakers was bubbling over and paper towels were haphazardly thrown between the two substances in an effort to keep them from touching each other. A Bunsen burner was left unattended, still aflame.

Quentin came to a sudden halt and grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop with him. I looked at him like he was crazy, but he shook his head and nodded at Nate. Nate was in control, then. I had a feeling this happened often.

Nate didn't even look at Sharkbait. "Sully?" Sully's head jerked up to meet Nate's eyes. His lab coat sleeve was pressed to his nose and he was wiping away blood as it poured from his nose, staining the white cloth a dark crimson. "Sully, are you alright?" He nodded anxiously. "What happened?"

"I'll tell ya what happened…" said Sharkbait slowly, walking towards Quentin and I, a bit unsteady on his feet. "Sullivan here, the little bitch, almost burnt off my skin! Knocked over a bottle of opened sulfuric acid!"

"And who left it open, Bateman?" asked Quentin calmly, his voice not betraying the way I could feel his hand shaking as he pushed my behind him, away from the inebriated doctor.

"Are you trying to insinuate it was my fault, Belfort?" snarled Bateman.

Before Quentin could respond, Nate had grabbed Bateman's shoulder and hauled him back away from us. Sharkbait shoved Nate away angrily. "Get your hands off of me!" Nate let Bateman push him away and looked at me. "Take Sully back to your room and check his nose. Quentin and I will take care of Bateman."

I nodded, not wanting to leave the boys alone, but also knowing that I would only get in the way if I stayed to help any longer. I walked around the lab bench, as far from Bateman as I could, and gently took Sully's arm as I reached him, leading him away from the mess.

"That's right!" I heard Bateman spit behind me, but I didn't turn around. "Get out of here! You don't belong in here, girly! You're nothing but a no-good, uneducated whore who wanted a ticket to be drooled over by soldiers and—" Bateman's voice instantly cut off and I could only hear his angry, muffled grunts. I set my jaw and ground my teeth, holding back my tears and all the words that threatened to tumble out of my mouth. As I gently pushed Sully inside my quarters, I turned around to see what had shut Sharkbait up.

What I saw nearly sent me into crazed laughter. Nate had Bateman's arms locked behind his back, holding him still. Quentin had taken off one of his shoes and socks. The sock was stuffed in Sharkbait's mouth. Nate was grinning at me. "Go on and take care of Sully, we got this."

"So I see," I said with a small grin and entered my room.

Sully was sitting on my bed, his head tilted backward, slowing the blood flow. His eyes met mine as I entered the room. " 'm sorry abou' tat," he managed to say. "I tripped an' 'ell. 'it me 'ose righ' offa tha' bench."

"Oh, Sully, sweetie, you and I both know that's absolute hogwash," I mumbled as I rifled through one of my suitcases with my essentials, trying to find an old towel to stymie the bleeding. Once I found what I was looking for, I handed Sully the towel, who took it and pressed it to his nose. I helped him out of his bloodied lab coat and tossed it to the side. Sully had finally tilted his head back down and was looking at me. His eyes were red and his hair was slightly singed on the ends. "Colin," I said carefully, using his first name as I sat down beside him, "what actually happened?"

"I tol' 'ou. I tripped," he insisted. "I ca' be clumsy."

"Colin, I know you don't know me and I don't know you, really, but I don't think that's what happened," I said, wringing my hands. "Nate and Quentin think…they think…" I struggled to find the correct words, to ask if Bateman was hurting him. I didn't know him well enough for that! I felt like I was crossing a boundary, but if I didn't, it would keep happening. I took a breath. "Does Bateman hit you?"

Sully's eyes flashed and for a moment, I saw what he was truly feeling. The fear in his expression was real and it was there, pent up below the surface. It happened so fast, I questioned ever seeing it, because the next thing I knew, Colin was on his feet, looking at me like I was insane. " 'it me?!" he yelped. "You're crazy! Yeah, 'ou do barely kno' me. 'ou have no idea wha' is goin' on in this lab! 'ateman was righ'! 'ou 'ave no bus'ness in this lab or to make assumptions! Women 'on't belon' in ta lab!" He opened his mouth to say something else, but shut it abruptly. Guilt spread across his features and he threw down the towel I'd given him, picked up his lab coat, pressing it back to his nose, and then left my room, slamming my door.

I looked down at my hands folded together and set my jaw. I suddenly wasn't hungry and didn't really have a desire to step foot out of my quarters again. The urge to curl up in a ball and sleep the rest of the day and night away was overwhelming, but I'd made a promise to Bucky.

When I thought about seeing him, I smiled a little bit. At least someone here thought I had a place in the lab. I pushed myself off of my bed and grabbed my coat, pulling it on. I took a deep breath. I was going to meet his friends and we were all going to have a nice dinner. There was the small thing of passing Bateman and Sully to get out of the lab, but I wasn't really worried. Nate and Quentin would be there and that gave me some type of assurance. Then there was the matter of finding my way to the mess hall, but I was sure I'd figure it out.

A sudden knock on my door broke me out of my thoughts. "Come in!"

The door opened a fraction and Quentin poked his head inside. "Nate is handling Bateman and Sully and asked me to bring him some dinner. Want me to walk you to the mess hall?" he asked quietly.

I smiled at the little man, relief flooding through me. "Yeah. Yeah, Quentin, that would be really nice."

He flushed a bit and nodded, opening my door wider. "Come on, then. It's six now. Your friend is going to think you left him out to dry."

"Can't have that, huh?" I asked with a small laugh.

"No," Quentin responded lightly, grinning back. "No we can't."


	11. Chapter Ten

**Author's Note:** This was _supposed_ to be up yesterday, but I got really lazy, but I friend of mine basically pushed me to do this today. So y'all can thank her, I'll let her know. This one's a bit on the short side, but it's all dialogue, so that's to be expected (and I really didn't know to play this one, so I hope it's decent). I'm also working on a different story in collaboration with a different friend, if it seems like I'm taking forever to update. (And when I look at when I updated last, I _am_ taking forever to update, so I apologize for that.) So, as usual, read, favorite, follow, and review if you feel so inclined! I love to hear feedback and you guys are the reason that I'm writing today! That's for all your support thus far, and I hope you enjoy the next installment of this story!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except for all original characters you see.

 **Editing:** All editing it done by me, all mistakes are mine.

 **Face Claim:** Sophia Bush (Like, the one random and totally convenient episode of _One Tree Hill_ set in 1941, which is actually perfect, what the heck, like that's luck. It's Episode 6.11 if anyone is wondering what I'm talking about.)

* * *

 _Chapter Ten_

 **February 23, 1943 – The Tree, Camp McCoy, Wisconsin**

Quentin was a complete gentleman about the situation. We walked in a calm silence to the mess hall together where we picked up our food. Well, they called it food. I wasn't really sure what it was. The menu said Sloppy Joes. I was pretty sure Sloppy Joes weren't supposed to be that shade of brown.

As back-up, I grabbed an apple, thankful that my appetite wasn't huge. With any luck, the apple would fill me up and I wouldn't even have to _touch_ the odd colored meat.

After we got our food, Quentin walked me over to the tree where I'd talked to Bucky earlier that day. I saw three men sitting underneath, but I couldn't quite make out what they looked like, except for Bucky. It was easy to pick him out of the bunch. He had his back to the tree, one knee pulled to his chest, tossing something up and down in his hand. He must've seen me because he lifted his hand and signaled me over.

Quentin and I stopped once we'd gotten close enough that I could see their faces. "Are you good from here?" he asked me.

I glanced at him and then back at the tree. Bucky's friends were smiling at me and I couldn't help but feel welcome. I hoped they were as nice as Bucky, or even Nate and Quentin. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I have it from here, Quentin." I smiled at him. "Thank you."

Quentin smiled back. Not a shy smile, but a full smile, teeth and all. "You're welcome, AJ. If you need anything…me and Nate are here. It's tough starting out, with all the soldiers and Sharkbait. We understand."

"That means a lot. I'll see you around?"

"Yeah. See you around," he said softly and turned to walk back to the lab. I could hear him whistling softly as he strolled, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his tray.

I looked back at the tree and made my way over, nodding to the guys as I went. Bucky immediately shifted to the right a little bit and patted the grass next to him. I could finally see he what he was tossing around. It was an apple, half eaten. "Have a seat, Frosty! Frosty, I'd like you to meet Anthony James and Russell Caldwell." Bucky signaled to each man as he said their names.

Anthony James sat closest to Bucky. He was hunched over slightly with a half grin on his clean shaven face as he waved at me. His dark hair was wild and unruly and in poor need of a trim, and his dark eyes danced with amusement, like he was having the best time of his life. He looked young, younger than Bucky and I, even. Maybe just twenty years old.

Russell Caldwell was beside Anthony. His had his knees pulled up to his chest and balanced his elbows on them. He was a bit pale, his curly rust-colored hair and scruff was a stark contrast to his skin color. His eyes were the color of honey and they twinkled as the sun hit them. His teeth were bright as he smiled at me, and they probably should have come with warning labels.

"So this is the infamous AJ Frost, huh? Barnes hasn't shut up about ya," said Anthony.

Bucky shoved his shoulder lightly. "Can it, James. You didn't shut up about the girl from the automat for three weeks when we first got here."

"Neither of you ever shut up about girls," drawled Russell while he twiddled a piece of grass between his thumb and forefinger.

I sat down, putting my back against the tree beside Bucky and picking up my apple, taking a small bite out of it. It was juicy and crisp, the best combination for a good apple. After I swallowed, I grinned at Russell. "What, no special girl back home for you?"

Russell raised an eyebrow and made a face. "Well…there was this one, now that ya mention it…"

Bucky groaned beside me. "Now look what ya did!" I glanced over at him and he was grinning at me, all excited like. He looked as if Christmas had come early.

"I'm just kiddin'," said Russell. "No one special, no one I had my eye on. I hail from Arizona and there's sorta a whole bunch of nothin' out there. Our closest neighbors are about six miles down the road."

I looked over Anthony. "What about you?"

"Chicago, born and raised. Moved to Detroit when I was fifteen. Not a good trade off," he said. "And you, Frosty?"

"First of all, don't call me that—"

"Yeah, it's my thing!" interjected Bucky.

" _Neither_ of you call me that," I said, shooting a half hearted glare at Bucky, who just grinned cheekily back at me, "and I'm from Manhattan, but I have an apartment in Brooklyn."

"A girl after my own heart," mused Bucky as he tossed his partially eaten apple in the air once more, before catching it and taking a large bite out of it. "Brooklyn, born and raised."

"That's nice and all," drawled Anthony with a mischievous grin, "but I was talkin' about someone special."

I felt my face heat up a tad and I realized the guys were all looking at me expectantly, especially Bucky, which made me a bit uncomfortable. I chanced a glance at him and his blue eyes were fixed on me like I was suspenseful motion picture and he was waiting to see what would happen next. Tearing my eyes away from him, I looked back at Anthony.

"Erm, yeah, there's someone—"

"What?!" squawked Bucky.

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. "I said, yes, there's someone special," I said a bit more firmly, Frank's smiling face and crinkled eyes imprinted in my vision. "We had been seeing each other for a while before he got called overseas." I left out the part about him asking me to marry him. I wasn't sure why, but that felt like something personal and I didn't feel like it needed to be shared.

"You never told me," Bucky said quietly. "I'm happy for ya, Jay. He's a lucky fella." I looked at him full on this time. He didn't look fazed at all from what I could see, his face all smiles, but his tone said something different. He didn't sound as cheerful as he usually did, but I wasn't going to look into it. There was no reason to analyze something that wouldn't hold significance in the end. We'd probably never see each other again after this month, with the exception of when I saw Steve.

The four of us were quiet, and it was getting uncomfortable fast. Luckily, Anthony took it as his own social cue and broke the silence. Unluckily, he decided to ask all the wrong questions. "Well, Barnes is right about one thing. That's one lucky gentleman. How'd ya meet him?"

"I did his exam for basic, and after he got back, he tracked me down. Out first date was in Brooklyn." I paused. "It sounds a bit stalker-ish when I say it that way."

Anthony laughed and Russell grinned at me. "Well, I'm sure he's a great guy. I wish you two the best 'a luck."

I smiled at Russell's kind wishes and decided I liked Bucky's friends. They were sweet, and that was nice. All of the guys I'd met so far had been, except Geoffrey Rogers and Sharkbait. It was nice to be proved wrong. I'd assumed the worst.

"Ya know, I've never been to Brooklyn, or New York City, for that matter," said Russell, scrunching his nose up and scratching his scruff. "I've heard my fair share of stories, though. Dames on every corner, high end dance halls and bars…sounds like my kinda town."

"You're missin' out," said Anthony. "Been there once when I was a kid. Central Park was my favorite place."

"Steve and I go there—er, I guess we _used_ to go there every Friday for a walk after a long day. It was a good way to wind down," said Bucky idly, though I could tell he was still a bit bothered. I chalked it down as him missing his best friend. After all, from what I'd heard, the two had been practically inseparable, and now they hadn't seen each other for well over two months.

"I miss it," I said with a sad smile, and then took another bite of my apple.

"We'll be back soon," said Bucky. "A month or so left and we can go to all the dance halls your little heart desires before I get my orders."

"And who says I'm gonna keep hanging out with you after basic?" I teased.

Bucky frowned at me. "Well, I mean, ya don't have to. But I figure you and Steve are good pals now, and where Steve goes, I go. You're stuck with me, darlin'." The frown turned into his trademark grin and I suppressed an eye roll.

"You're insufferable."

"You love me."

"False, I love Steve," I corrected.

"Ya know, that hurts, Frosty. I might just die from a broken heart."

"I'm sure you'll pull through."

"You didn't correct me on calling you 'Frosty'," pointed out Bucky.

I sent him a withering glare. "I actually can't stand you."

"Oh-kay!" said a voice, and I had completely forgotten that Anthony and Russell had been sitting with Bucky and I. They were both staring at us with wide eyes and Russell was smirking like he knew something we didn't. It was Anthony who had spoken and he was clearing his throat. "I have letters to write to the family, and this is the only time I really have to do it." He started to stand up. "You comin', Russ?"

Russell got up as well. "Yeah, I'll tag along. I promised Ma I'd write her a thorough letter about my time here and all my exploits. I dunno what exploits she's thinkin' we do here…" he said, putting air quotes around 'exploits'. "All I've done so far is not get enough sleep, eat nasty food, and work my tail off." Russell frowned like he was thinking hard and then shook his head. "Anyway, you two good here?" he asked.

I opened my mouth to respond, but Bucky beat me to it. "Yeah, we're fine." He waved them away. "Go on, I'll catch up with ya after dinner's over."

"Sure. It was nice meetin' ya, AJ," said Russ with a kind smile. "I hope I'll see you around. You're nice to talk to compared to all these other meatheads," he joked.

"Who you callin' a meathead, pork-for-brains?" snipped Anthony.

Russell snorted. "See what I mean?"

Anthony just grinned down at me. "I deal with this all day. I bunk right beside both of 'em, so feel free to come visit me and save me from these idiots at any time."

I laughed. "Noted."

The two smiled and nodded to Bucky and I before walking off, already deep in their own conversation by the time they had their backs to us. "I like them," I said, surprising myself.

"Yeah," agreed Bucky while he watched after them. "They're nice fellas. Probably the nicest I could'a got stuck with in this entire camp. They're gonna be my squad mates when the time comes."

I looked over at him curiously. "How do you know?"

Bucky smirked at me and took a finishing bite of his apple, swallowing it before he spoke. "I just do."

"That's oddly unsettling," I commented with a raised eyebrow.

Bucky chuckled and threw the apple core off into the tall grass before fully relaxing against the tree. He didn't say anything and the two of us sat there in silence. It was uncomfortable like it had been when Anthony asked me about Frank, but rather serene and complacent, with the exception of the random gunshots of the soldiers at the firing range.

I finished my apple, slowly, nothing really on my mind, and that rarely happened. Usually I was deep in thought if I wasn't talking or if I wasn't busy. I wasn't used to being so relaxed and a strange sense of calm washed over me. Other than the shots, I could only hear the distant voice of a drill sergeant and Bucky's soft breathing. I glanced beside me and couldn't help but grin when I saw his eyes closed with his mouth slightly open. His chest rose and fell steadily and at some point while I was finishing my apple, he must've dozed off. I hadn't noticed.

Tossing the apple core in the direction Bucky had thrown his, I bumped my shoulder lightly into his. "Hey. Bucky, wake up."

No response.

"Bucky? James?" I pushed his shoulder a bit roughly. "James!"

He jerked awake. "I didn't do it!" he yelped and I snorted. He looked around and then fixed his eyes on me, pupils dilated so large that you could only see a small ring of his blue irises. He groaned. "Why'd ya have to wake me up?" he grumbled as he shut his eyes once more.

I bumped him again. "Because dinner is about over, and _you_ have places to be, soldier."

"I do not," he muttered. "I have drills for the next three hours and those are the worst." One of his eyes opened as he seemed to consider his options. "Ya wanna blow it off with me?"

I rolled my eyes and stood up, brushing off my skirt and grabbing my tray, throwing the questionable sandwich out in the grass. "As much as I'd _love_ to spend another three hours with you, I have things to do, too, mister."

Bucky knitted his eyebrows together and frowned while he lazily pushed himself off of the ground. "Like what?"

"Like my initial reports for the candidates?" I said with a grin at Bucky's confused look. "For the project I'm working on? With the lab? You know, 'change the tide of the war'?" I quoted.

"Right, you're smart 'n' all that," he mumbled, stretching his arms high above his head and scrubbing a hand down his face.

"Yeah, and if I wasn't 'smart 'n' all that', I wouldn't be here," I joked.

Before either of us could say anything else, a whistle sounded and Bucky made an annoyed sound that I couldn't decipher.

"That's my cue." He scowled in the direction the noise came from scratched his neck. "So, I gotta run…can't exactly escort you back to the lab without getting chewed out by my sarge…you gonna be alright?"

I rolled my eyes and grinned. "Go," I said. "Don't get in trouble on my account. Quentin is a pretty good tour guide."

Bucky scrunched up his nose, a pout firmly on his face. "But _I'm_ supposed to be your tour guide."

" _You're_ a soldier who needs to get to his drills. Right _now_ ," I insisted. "You can give me a tour tomorrow, if either of us find time."

"Find time? Sweetheart, I'll _make_ time," Bucky said as he stuck his hands in his pockets and his lazy grin replaced his pout.

"Bucky…" I warned.

"Right, right, sorry, _AJ_ ," he said, putting a sarcastic emphasis on my name. "You're really touchy about the name thing," he noted.

"You literally _made_ me start to call you 'Bucky'," I reminded him.

He paused and shrugged. "That's a fair point."

The whistle blew again.

"…Dammit," Bucky muttered, looking in the direction of the noise. He looked at me apologetically, "I really gotta—"

"Go, I know," I finished for him, pushing his shoulder. "I'll be fine."

"And if you're not—"

"Scream, I know!" I finished again with an incredulous grin. "Now go!"

"Alright," Bucky said, backing away from me as he walked, but he didn't turn around.

"Alright," I said.

"Okay, I'm going," he said a bit louder, so I could hear him. There was distance between us now, and yet he refused to turn his back on me. He was seriously too much for me to handle.

"James, go!" I said, but I couldn't hold back my laugh.

Bucky's face lit up like a Christmas tree when I laughed. "I'm goin'!" He waved as he turned around. "See ya later, Frosty!"

I watched his retreating figure as I leaned against the tree we'd be sitting under, not bothering to correct him on him calling me 'Frosty'. I hated the nickname, I really did, but there was something about it that didn't bother me as much when Bucky said it. Usually it was used to make fun of me of sorts, but it didn't feel like that with James. To be honest, I wasn't sure about much at all when it came to James. He looked like he'd be an open book when I'd first met him, easy to read, easy to measure his intentions, but so far, he was nothing but a giant puzzle, challenging me to try and solve it. I didn't like it, but I loved it at the same time.

Shaking my head, I pushed myself off the tree and began my walk back to the mess hall to drop off my tray, and then back to the lab, bracing myself to deal with Sharkbait. Of course, the moment Bucky was gone, my brain reverted back into full time _think mode_ , and I couldn't help but wonder why the only time I was really relaxed was around James Buchanan Barnes.

It was probably nothing, of course. Like I'd thought earlier, there was no reason to read into something that wouldn't matter in the end.

At least, that's what I'd started to tell myself.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Author's Note:** Oi. It's been one heck of a busy summer for me. I'm getting content out the best I can, folks. Those of you waiting for my chapter for _The Scars of the Past_ are going to seriously get used to having to wait. I doubt I'll get anywhere with that until the show starts up again, because of the lack of my will to write it. And without that, it's not a good chapter, and no good chapters means angry readers. But if I don't post anything, it's...slightly less angry readers. I dunno, that's my viewpoint, this story holds my full attention right now. So, do the usual if you feel so inclined, read, review, follow, favorite, the gout. Thank you all for reading and enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except for all original characters you see.

 **Editing:** All editing it done by me, all mistakes are mine.

 **Face Claim:** Sophia Bush (Like, the one random and totally convenient episode of _One Tree Hill_ set in 1941, which is actually perfect, what the heck, like that's luck. It's Episode 6.11 if anyone is wondering what I'm talking about.)

* * *

 _Chapter Eleven_

Days at the camp flew by. They didn't necessarily go fast or slow, but time just seemed to add up more and more, and before I knew it, twelve days had gone by. I'd written and sent five letters at the end of the first week. One for Steve, one for Lydia, one for Jane, one for Howard, and one for Sam, who would show it to the rest of the family when he got the chance. I missed my friends and family a lot, including Howard Stark, which I never thought that I'd say.

I interviewed the soldiers one by one, assessing them as I'd seen fit. So far, though, not one was perfect for Project Rebirth. Sure, a few of them were decent candidates, but none of them had shown any _true_ potential yet.

I hadn't seen Bucky since dinner under the tree. I saw Anthony and Russell often, but they were usually busy. They'd stop to say hi, but it was never for too long. They were hardworking soldiers, and I wasn't surprised to both of them in my candidate list for one of my future interviews. When I asked either of them about Bucky, they usually just shrugged and admitted to rarely seeing him as well, which kind of calmed my nerves. I had started to assume that he was a avoiding me. Anthony had just smirked when I suggested that and assured me that that wasn't the case.

The only part of my day that tended to drag were the soldier interviews. They were long and boring with fifty in-depth questions. It was my job to assess their responses and score them, as well as include any side notes on _every single question_. It got tiring, honestly. A girl can only score so many standardized tests before going insane. It didn't help that Sharkbait was constantly watching me, making sure I didn't screw anything up. It was ridiculous, but I felt as if he almost had eyes _everywhere._ When he wasn't around, I was almost positive that Sully was reporting to him on me.

Ever since the incident with the bloody nose, Sully avoided me. He was perfectly fine around Quentin and Nate, but anytime I tried to say a word, or even looked at him, he preoccupied himself. His typical response was 'I'm busy' or 'Don't you have work to do'? I'd pulled Nate aside to talk to him about it, and he'd frowned grimly.

"That only makes matters worse," he'd said. "That means we're probably right. And in situations like these, I hate being right."

Yeah. I hated being right too.

But all in all, Nate and Quentin never failed to brighten my day, but even so, it was Nate more than Quentin. Quentin could be shy at times, so it could be hard to start a conversation and get him to open up. It seemed that way for everyone, even Nate. So naturally, most of my free time was spent with Nate, and Quentin tended to do all the busy work to avoid Bateman's wrath. We took walks and when we ate meals together, Quentin usually joined us. Nate accompanied me in the lab so I'd never be caught alone with Sharkbait. More often than not, Bateman spent _all_ his time in the lab. It made it nearly impossible to test the serum and make sure everything was in order. I was thankful Nate was willing to spend so much time with me attached to his hip.

Nate was the sole reason I was getting through the camp alive. If he wasn't around, I was almost certain Sharkbait would've had my head. He was ruthless around me. In the three times that I'd spoken to him since he'd yelled at me my first day, it always resorted in an argument with raised voices. He always used the same excuse: that I was a girl and I didn't belong. And he was always drinking. There wasn't a time that I ever didn't smell alcohol on his breath. The fact that he got _close_ enough for me to smell the alcohol was repulsive. I didn't like to think about it.

On the other hand, there hadn't been another incident with Sully since the initial one. He hadn't laid a hand on anyone, so far. Of course, part of me knew it couldn't last. Bateman wasn't going to be on his best behavior for long. Or, his non-violent behavior. And, of course, I was right.

And in situations like these, I _hated_ being right.

* * *

 **March 5, 1943 – The Lab, Camp McCoy, Wisconsin**

The letter was a surprise. It was delivered to my door just after lunch. Nate and I had walked the campus for the umpteenth time, talking in circles and just all around enjoying each other's company. He was an easy guy to get along with. I felt like I could just be myself and be relaxed. With Frank, I was always trying to look happy. To play the role of a happy girlfriend. If I didn't look happy, people would wonder, and when people wonder, bad things would happen. At least, that's how I saw it. And with Bucky, I just felt…I felt so _exposed_. Like if I talked too much, I'd give away the secrets of my inner soul. I knew that was stupid, but with his piercing blue eyes, it seemed like James could see right through me.

With Nate, it was easy. He knew where we stood, and that we were going to be friends, and he was perfectly fine with that, after I'd initially turned him down. He was laidback and could practically read my mind. We often talked about nothing and everything at the same, jumping subjects like frogs on a lily pad. Sometimes we talked about Frank, sometimes I teased him about how he and Lydia would be absolutely fantastic together. Sometimes we could go from one of those topics to discussing the discovery of plutonium and somehow not miss a beat. I learned so much about him, like the fact that he and Quentin had originally gone to medical school before being drafted and planned on signing on to be field doctors as soon as their work at McCoy was done, and when he had a question about me, I'd answer it. It never got to be too personal with Nate. I could talk with him about anything. Even though we'd only really known each other for a week, I felt like I'd known him for years.

So, right. The letter. Nate and I were relaxing in my room with the door cracked, discussing the perfect wedding. I wasn't sure how we'd arrived to such a girly and mainstream topic, but Nathaniel certainly was involved in the conversation, which was as hilarious as it sounded.

"Tiger lilies?" I deadpanned, my face as straight as I could keep it.

Nate looked at me like I'd sprouted a third eye. "Yes, tiger lilies! What's so hard to understand about that?!" I couldn't help it. I cracked up laughed, and Nate's eyes rounded, looking incredulous. "What?!" he demanded.

"They're…Nate, they're _orange_. They won't match with _anything_!"

Nate blew out a breath and rolled his eyes. "Well, then…then they can be at the reception! They're going to be somewhere at my wedding, mark my words, Adelyn Juliet!"

I rolled my eyes and grinned fondly at the dark haired man reclining in the chair opposite of my bed. He was scowling at me good-naturedly, but I could see the spark of amusement in his bright blue eyes.

"So are you telling me you've planned out your ideal wedding, Nathaniel Theodore?"

Nate scoffed. "No. Just…a lot of it."

"Ya know," I drawled, kicking my legs on the side of my bed with a droll smile, "girls do that too. And when the time comes…your fiancée with most likely kick your butt if you mess up her dream wedding."

"Guys can have dreams, too!" Nate protested.

"Normal guys don't plan their ideal wedding!"

"I'm not a normal guy!"

I laughed. "No you are not, Nathaniel Adams. No you are not."

"I bet Quentin has his flowers picked out," Nate muttered. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. "I just…ya know, not even Quentin knows I have this kind of stuff planned out." Nate adjusted himself, bracing his elbows on his knees and locking his fingers together. "I mean, you're right. Planning a wedding, showing feelings…I don't get to do that with a lot of my male friends. You'd think Quentin would be different, but he just wants to be accepted, so he acts like one of the guys. So…I mean, what I'm trying to say is, it's a relief to have you here, AJ. I'm glad I can talk to you."

I smiled softly at Nate, my chest swelling with warmth. "Thanks, Nate," I said. "I'm glad I have you too." There was a small stretch of silence between us before I asked, "So you want to get settled down then?"

Nate nodded eagerly. "After this war blows ever, I'm going to put my dreams into action." He held his hands out, making a small little picture frame. "I can see it now. A cute little house just outside of Pittsburgh, with a big yard and basketball hoop. Two or three kiddos. And a dog. A husky." A dreamy look had spread across Nate's face and I could see that he was far, far away from Wisconsin.

"Pittsburgh?" I asked quietly.

"Where I'm from," he clarified, his eyes refocusing on me. "Well, the inner city, anyway. My dad, me, and my little sister. Mom left us after there were some…issues with her third pregnancy. She had a miscarriage. She and the baby…they didn't make it."

"I'd say I'm sorry, but are the words really going to have any impact?" I asked.

"Not really," Nate admitted. "But I'm so used to hearing it and seeing the pitied looks. I'm just glad you're a different kind of person, Adelyn Juliet."

"Well, it takes one to know one Nathaniel Theodore," I replied with a small smile.

"Yeah," he said smiling back. "I suppose it does. Ya know, when my mom was still alive, my dad was _so_ happy. And finding out she was supposed to have another child…I've never seen his eyes light up like that. He hasn't been himself since…and…I mean, they were epitome of this perfect marriage. Well, not perfect," he added, "but damn close. They had their ups and downs, but that's what made them love each other more. Ever since I was a kid, I've wanted that. That kind of happiness. I've always wanted to show my dad so maybe he can be okay again. And I guess that's why I've planned so much of this out. I want it to be as perfect as perfect can get. He was always so excited about grandkids…I hope I can give him some and maybe, just maybe, he'll see that things aren't so bad and that Mom's in a better place." Nate took a breath and flushed, his cheeks bright red in the dim light of my quarters. "But I'm just a hopeless romantic."

I shook my head, and my cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so hard. "Nate, that's one of the most thoughtful and adorable things I've ever heard. You're going to make an amazing husband to a _very_ lucky girl."

Nate's face lit up. "You think so?"

"I _know_ so," I responded slyly.

Just then, there was a knock at my door, pushing it open a tad. "Special delivery?"

I recognized the voice instantly. It was Quentin. "Come on in!" I called.

The door pushed open and Quentin smiled timidly at Nate and I. In his fist, he was clutching what looked like an envelope. He leaned against the doorframe, his other hand in his pocket. "I figured you two would be in here. What was all the talk about?"

Before I could say anything, Nate pointed a finger at Quentin. "Q, at your wedding, do you have a specific type of flower you want? Given it any thought? At all?"

Quentin looked a bit stunned initially, confusion written across his face. Then, the confusion melted into a goofy grin. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He stuck his tongue out, and I recognized this moment as one of the rare times Quentin felt truly comfortable in a social situation. He wasn't often, and it was almost an honor to know that he felt easy around me.

He held out his hand to me, the hand with the envelope. "Special delivery for one Adelyn Frost."

"Me?" I asked.

Quentin raised an eyebrow. "Unless you want me to give your love note to Romeo over there," he deadpanned.

"Love note?!" I squeaked.

Quentin just grinned. "Addressed from the frontlines."

I was stunned for only a moment. "…Frank?"

"I'd assume so."

Relief came crashing through me as I took the envelope and pulled it back quickly, not realizing my hand had been quivering. I hadn't realized the amount of worry that had been eating at me as each day passed, not knowing how he was. It felt like an elephant that had been standing on my chest just stepped off. I was hoping neither Nate nor Quentin would see my shaking hand, but I think they both did because they exchanged a look and Nate stood up.

"Well, I think I'll go ahead and let you read that. I have some lab work to do, anyhow. You going to be okay, AJ?" asked Nate.

I looked up. His baby blues were scanning over me critically, looking for any signs of distress. I felt like I was under a microscope, which was rare, because he didn't analyze me often. I shook my head. "I'm fine. Thank you, guys. Both of you. For just being here this past week or so."

Nate didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded all the same. "Of course, AJ. You know where to find us."

Nate left and Quentin began to leave, but paused in the door way. He turned around and smiled at me with a wistful grin. "Orchids," he said.

I looked up from the envelop that my eyes had been glued to, not quite sure I'd heard him correctly. "What?"

"Orchids," he repeated. "The flowers I want at my wedding. Don't tell Nate."

A giant smile bloomed across my face. "I won't," I said.

Quentin grinned widely back and left, shutting the door, leaving me along with my thoughts and my letter from Frank Jackson.

* * *

I know it's silly, but I must've sat on my bed for five minutes, in the dim light, just staring at the outside of the envelope. It was from Frank alright, I recognized his sharp, but messy scrawl. It was just addressed to 'AJ Frost' with the location of my apartment. I had Lydia house sitting, so she must have forwarded it to the camp.

I wasn't sure why I was hesitating so much. I felt like I should have been ecstatic to receive a letter from Frank and to know that he was okay. And I was happy that he was still out there, fighting, but somehow that just made the situation worse. Knowing that he wasn't safe. Knowing there was always a chance. Knowing he might not make it back. It was troublesome at most. Not even mentioning my revelation that I wasn't in love with him. I still wasn't sure what to do about that and that made the entire situation a particular sort of uncomfortable.

 _Quit psyching yourself out_ , I reprimanded. _Just open it._

Setting the letter down, I made my way over to my desk where I kept a letter opener in one of the drawers. I grabbed it and sat back down on my bed where I slid the blade across the paper, the letter tearing open with a satisfying sound. I pulled the letter out and unfolded it, not looking at it yet. It took a bit of mental preparation before I drew my eyes back to the paper and began to read the words, my fingers finding the silver cross on the chain around my neck.

 _February 18, 1943_

 _Adelyn,_

 _Finally, a bit of free time to write. It's crazy out here, darling. We haven't done much except defend against Axis offensives, but we've lost some good men. Right now we've been on patrol in Tunisia. I haven't seen much combat…but it's scary, Adelyn. I got shot, but don't worry! I know you, and you'll worry. I'm fine. In and out, just a flesh wound. I'll probably be healed by the time you get this.  
I hope you're doing okay. I don't wanna say I'm worried about you, but well, I'm worried. I have no doubt you're keeping yourself busy. Tell the family I say hello.  
I'm counting down the days until I'm home. Sorry, I can't give you more of a report, I didn't have much time to write this. My CO is yelling right now, in fact.  
I love you, Adelyn. And I'll see you soon._

 _Frank_

It was pretty much everything I'd expected. An update on his wellbeing. His thoughts on me. Telling me he loves me. The end. But still, the end felt like a sucker punch. There was nothing I wanted more than to see him in person and tell him that I loved him, but I wasn't _in_ love with him. Of course, I knew how it would sound. Absolutely awful to anyone listening. But he deserved to know in person. Not in a letter. I just hope I'd get the chance to tell him. I stuffed the letter back in the envelope with a sigh. It was almost lunch time, and while I was hungry, that letter almost sated my appetite. Of course, Nate wouldn't take that for an excuse. He'd probably make me eat. He was worse than my mother, honestly.

I wasn't quite sure where my head was when I heard the crash and then the yelling, but wherever it had been, my focus shifted solely to the commotion outside of my door. One voice was Bateman, the other sounded like…Quentin? Surging forward, I rushed to my door, wrenching it open.

I was appalled at the sight.

Sully was on the ground cradling his arm, which had to be popped out of place. Quentin was yelling angrily at Bateman, his voice louder than I'd ever heard it. He was flailing his arms, signaling to Sully, who seemed dazed at the whole situation. Bateman looked bored with the entire affair, which set my blood to boil. I didn't think it could get much worse, but I was about to be proven wrong.

In a matter of seconds, Nate had walked into the main door, demanding to know what was going on. As he spoke, Bateman reared back, faster than a blink, and backhanded Quentin. _Hard_. Quentin hit the ground and didn't move. And chaos ensued.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Author's Note:** Oi. Filler chapters, folks. Sorry about all this. To the point. Is this chapter a bit rushed at the end? Yes. Am I happy with the way it turned out? Certainly not, but I rewrote it several times, and I couldn't seem to get it right. This is how the end result turned out, so I hope it's okay. On another note, thank you all for reading and reviewing, and I hope you will continue to stick with the story. I start school again tomorrow, senior year, so updates will be a tad more erratic than usual. As always, read, follow, favorite, and especially review, and I hope you all enjoy Chapter Twelve!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except for all original characters you see.

 **Editing:** All editing it done by me, all mistakes are mine.

 **Face Claim:** Sophia Bush (Like, the one random and totally convenient episode of _One Tree Hill_ set in 1941, which is actually perfect, what the heck, like that's luck. It's Episode 6.11 if anyone is wondering what I'm talking about.)

* * *

 _Chapter Twelve_

 **March 5, 1943 – The Lab, Camp McCoy, Wisconsin**

There are good days and there are bad days. Some start out bad and get better as the day progresses. Some start out perfect. The sun is shining, birds are chirping. Food tastes a little bit better and the fresh air is a little bit crisper. And it all can come to a screeching halt within a moment's notice.

I am pretty sure that I saw Hell that day.

It was a disaster. What happened next all transpired in the matter of a minute and not one second of it was slow. It was truly the definition of Hell, of chaos, of utter catastrophe.

The moment Quentin hit the ground, Nate was running, sprinting even. He didn't stop when he approached Bateman. Head down, shoulders hunkered, Nate tackled Erik Bateman head on, like he was a football player instead of a baseball junkie. Quentin wasn't moving, wasn't making a sound. Sully leaned over him frantically, despite his mangled arm, checking for any external and immediate injuries. I had moved at this point, standing closer to the carnage, to get a better look at the current fight between Nate and Sharkbait.

It wasn't really much of a fight at all. Bateman had managed to throw Nate off of him once, into one of the lab benches, but Nate was persistent. He jumped right back into it and was straddled to Bateman's chest, throwing punch after punch. Bateman was frantically trying to shield himself from Nate's blows, but it didn't matter. Nate's fists rained down on the older man, hitting him back and forth, rattling him to the core. I hated Erik Bateman with every fiber of my being, but I couldn't watch him get beat like this. A few punches were nice to see. This was just annihilation and pure rage for how Bateman had treated Nate, and Quentin, and Sully, and even me in the short time I'd been there. It got to the point where I was truly afraid that Nate was going to kill Erik.

As I started moving towards Nate, the door to the lab opened and the situation before us got a whole lot stickier. In the open doorframe, broad shoulders and imposing figure standing at six feet, was Colonel Chester Phillips, the head of the SSR. Of Project Rebirth. I had only met Phillips a handful of times and in that time, we had never really spoken. Usually Howard and Doctor Erskine did all the talking, and when I was addressed on the subject, I'd respond. He was the only one that ever just called me 'Adelyn' or 'Dr. Frost'. Something about Phillips unnerved me, and I wasn't sure what, but I was glad Erskine and Howard were big talkers.

Phillips opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say died in this throat as his eyes fixed on Nate pummeling away at Bateman. I didn't hesitate when I saw the Colonel though. I surged forward, catching one of Nate's arms as it came up, ready to swing on Bateman again. Even though he was much stronger than me, the moment I touched him, the fight seemed to drain from Nate. I squeezed his forearm tightly and his head whipped around, eyes zeroing in on me. They weren't the happy, light blue that I was so accustomed to seeing. They were wild and feral, like a cornered animal. I swallowed roughly and stood my ground, not tearing my gaze from his. "Nate…" I managed quietly. "Let him go, Nate."

My voice effectively broke Nathaniel. His arm dropped and he sagged back onto his haunches. He was covered in sweat, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. His knuckles were a mess, covered in blood, a mixture of both his own from his hands and Bateman's face. When his eyes found Colonel Phillips, standing in the door, his expression turned from ragged to stricken, like he was realizing his mistake all over again and imagining the repercussions.

I took one look at Bateman and had to look away. The man was a mess. His nose was surely broken in several places, and I was positive he might've had a shattered cheekbone. Both of his lips were split in two different places. His right eye was swelled shut. His left was bloodied, but wide open, staring Nate and I down. His breathing was shallow, but he was still conscious, his one eye following our every move. He hadn't even passed out.

I let go of Nate's fist as I looked away from Bateman and wrapped my arms around his chest, pulling him back with all my strength, which wasn't exactly a lot. I wasn't a wimp, but I certainly wasn't all too built, either. Lucky for me, Nate pulled off rather easily, stumbling to his feet, and staring down at Dr. Erik Bateman, his eyes glued to his wrecked face. My hands were locked around his abdomen, and when he finally stood, one of Nate's hands found mine and he intertwined our fingers.

The lab was utterly silent except for Bateman's rather loud and ragged breathing. Quentin was sitting up now, Sully supporting him. He sported a large bruise which was forming on his right cheek. He seemed a bit dazed. I wasn't close enough to really see what was going on with him, but my money was on a concussion. He seemed half out of consciousness, ready to pass out any moment. Colonel Phillips' eyes roved the room and he was silent, but not for long.

His voice was like thunder as it echoed in the laboratory. "WHAT IN SAM HELL IS GOING ON AROUND HERE?!"

* * *

"Phillips is going to get a witness statement from Sharkbait."

I was a bit startled at Nate's voice when he suddenly spoke. After the incident in the lab, Phillips ordered everyone into action. He called in a doctor for Bateman and Quentin. Two came in with a stretcher and carried Quentin away to the sick bay. He lost consciousness when they stood him up, and I was worried. Sully, with the help of another doctor whom I didn't know, followed behind, supporting a staggering Bateman.

That left Nate and I with Phillips. He didn't yell like I was expecting. He ordered me, quite calmly, to go retrieve some of my medical supplies from my room, and to stay inside and wait for Nate. It was in my best interest to listen, so I did, but that's not to say that I didn't try to eavesdrop a little bit. It made it harder since he was being so infuriatingly calm.

It didn't last.

As soon as I found all the supplies I'd need to clean up Nate, the yelling started. The words were jumbled and fast and angry, but I caught the gist. Someone needed to pay for what happened to Bateman. And the moment the evidence was turned on Nate, he was going to get canned. The thought made me sick to my stomach.

I was busy cleaning out a cut above Nate's right eye. It wasn't long, but it was deep. Since Bateman hadn't landed a single blow on him, I assumed it had happened when he had been thrown into the lab bench. He hissed a bit as I dabbed a cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide on it to the cut, but he had been otherwise silent. I hadn't yet started on his knuckles, but that was going to be a whole other ball game. He was rubbing his hands together nervously, spreading the blood. Blood welled up from the cuts on his knuckles when he clenched his fists. I'd told him to stop twice, but I don't think he was really listening to me.

As I applied a single butterfly stitch above his eyebrow, he'd decided to speak a single sentence: "Phillips is going to get a witness statement from Sharkbait."

I spared him a glance as I turned around to grab the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a clean washcloth. "What?"

He didn't respond for a few seconds as I poured the peroxide onto the cloth, soaking it. When I turned back to him, he spoke again. "A witness statement from Bateman. He'll blame me. He wasn't even drunk. I didn't catch a whiff of liquor on him. He hit Sully and Quentin fully sober."

My stomach clenched at the news unpleasantly, but I swallowed roughly. "There are witnesses, Nate—give me your hands." He obliged as she spoke. "Me, Quentin, Sully. You were defending Quentin and Quentin was defending Sully."

"Quentin's unconscious. Sully's mentally unstable. Phillips watched you pull me off, he won't trust you. I'm screwed, AJ. Bateman's the only reliable witness here in Phillips' eyes."

I wrapped his hands in the cloth and he winced as I washed the blood off and cleaned out the wounds at the same time. "Hold this here," I instructed. Nate did as he was told as I turned around and grabbed two ace bandages. While I finished wrapping and cleaning Nate up, we were both silent. I knew he was right. To Phillips, Bateman _was_ the only reliable witness. If it came down to it, I wasn't sure anyone would be able to help Nate. Not until Quentin was awake to give his statement.

"Everything will be okay, Nate," I said softly.

"How can you be sure?"

I shrugged. "It has to be."

I finished packing up my medical supplies, and when I turned around, I was startled as Nate's arms closed around me, encasing me in a bear hug. "Thank you, Adelyn Juliet," he whispered into my hair.

I hugged him back, squeezing him tightly. "Any time, Nathaniel Theodore."

Before either of us could do anything, the door to my room flew open. Nate and I jumped away from each other like repelling magnets. It was Phillips, permanent scowl in place and glowering at the both of us.

"If your little love fest is over, I'd like to speak to both of you. Individually. Adams first. Frost, I want you to wait."

"Wait?"

"Yes, Dr. Frost, wait. In the lab. Understood?"

"Understood, sir," I said quietly.

"Good, then get moving."

And so I waited. Out in the lab area, sitting on one of the chairs at one of the benches. There was blood splattered on the ground where Nate had been going to town on Bateman. Part of me wanted to clean it up, but it made me sick to my stomach, just thinking about the entire situation. If Nate would get fired, that meant me being alone with Bateman. Sully was under his influence and Quentin couldn't fight off a fly if I was ever threatened by Bateman, which I was sure would happen. It was a matter of when, not if.

I couldn't hear what was going on in my room and I wasn't quite sure why Phillips was interrogating Nate in it. Maybe because he was just visiting and he didn't have an actual office. I didn't know, but I didn't like it either. I especially didn't like that I couldn't hear the conversation.

I worried about Nate and the risk he'd get fired. I was worried about Quentin and whether or not he was conscious yet. I was worried about Sully and hoped he was realizing what kind of a guy Bateman was. And finally, I was worried about Frank and how he was doing in Tunisia, considering the date he'd written the letter I'd gotten was over two weeks ago. I didn't even know if he was still in Tunisia.

Burying my head in my hands, I groaned. I was so sick of being worried. I was sick of the war, even though we hadn't even been involved nearly as long as Europe. I hated sitting around and waiting for things to happen. Patience was and never has been a strong point for me. I liked to happen in an orderly chain of events, preferably quickly. Waiting around to know whether or Nate would get fired was almost torture. And if he did, my chances at finding myself alone with Bateman were high. That thought scared me.

It struck me that I was truly afraid of Bateman. He was ruthless and he'd proven time after time that he was dangerous. And he certainly didn't like me and wasn't afraid to voice his opinion on my working in the lab. I got nervous when he was around because the man was a ticking time bomb, especially when he was drunk. When Nate was around, which was all the time, my nerves would settle. And now there was a chance that he might be going away for good.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been waiting. It had been a decent amount of time to be left alone with my hyperactive brain. I was all kinds of relieved when the door to my room opened and Nate exited. Colonel Phillips held the door open for me to walk in, but my gaze fixed on Nate. He looked tired and worn out and utterly defeated. He didn't even meet my eyes as he brushed past me. The sight was more than enough to confirm my fears.

"You fired him, didn't you," I said quietly, soft enough that Nate wouldn't be able to hear me.

Chester Phillips looked at me grimly and nodded his head inside. "Come on in, Doctor. We have a lot to discuss."

I entered my room tentatively, sitting on my bed while Phillips closed the door. I asked again, "You fired him, didn't you?"

Phillips didn't respond as he sat down in the chair opposite me, the chair Nate had been sitting in only minutes before the incident in the lab. He regarded me with a sort of cool composure, propping his elbow on one knee and placing his chin in his hand. "What happened, Doctor?"

"What did Nate tell you happened?" I shot back. "Because I'll bet he said Bateman hit Sully. And when Quentin interfered, Bateman hit him too. And I'll bet he told you that he was just defending his friends, right?"

"He said it was his fault."

"What?!" I yelped.

"He said it was his fault, but he also explained what happened just like you told me. And I believe him."

"Then why'd you fire him?!" I asked incredulously.

"Because someone has to go for what happened. And it won't be Bateman because he's the head scientist around here and how he runs things isn't my business. For all we know, Colin Smith deserved that first hit."

"Colin Smith wouldn't harm a fly! The kid practically shakes at the sight of Bateman, he's afraid to step up and tell the truth!"

"And that won't hold in a hearing, Adelyn! If I tell my superiors that Nathaniel Adams was just defending a friend, they'll ask me why 'defending a friend' got so out of hand and I won't have an answer for them. Nate could have handled the situation better and I'm sorry he didn't, but now he has to go. When Quentin wakes up, I'll have more of an understanding about the situation, but for right now, Nate is volunteering himself to take the fall. So for now, he's going to."

"You can't let him if it isn't his fault!"

"He said it was, Adelyn, what am I supposed to do? With a statement like that, Nate's going to go down the road until Quentin provides a better understanding, okay? I'm sorry, but that's how things are. Now if you're done yelling at me—"

"Bateman's an alcoholic," I blurted out before I could stop the words.

Phillips' sentence died in his throat and he frowned. "What?"

"Bateman," I said hurriedly. "He drinks. A lot. On the job, off the job, whenever. That's why he hits. It's because he's usually drunk."

Phillips didn't say anything for a while as he digested what I told him. When he finally did, it wasn't the answer I was hoping for. "Well, that's one hell of an accusation, Adelyn."

"It's true, sir!" I insisted.

"Do you have proof? A stash? Was Bateman drunk when what happened today happened?"

"Well, not according to Nate, he didn't smell any liquor, but—"

"Then I'm sorry, Dr. Frost. There's nothing to be done. I'll at least order a blood alcohol test, but other than that…" Phillips shrugged. "See me when Quentin wakes up and gives his statement. Then we'll talk. Now, I came here in the first place to talk to you about Project Rebirth…"

And just like that, the subject of Nate was abandoned. We talked about my assessments on the soldiers and how he'd been reading them. He said there were several good choices, but the perfect one just wasn't there yet. Erskine had apparently completed a test sample of the serum and he'd given it to Phillips for me to take a look at. "We're closer than ever, Adelyn," he'd said. "We just need to find the perfect soldier."

Too bad finding the perfect soldier was harder than it sounded.

As we continued to discuss Project Rebirth, my mind was only half on the subject. The other half was with Nate, and the fact that he was brave enough to take the blame for what had happened in the lab. He was brave, yes, but when it came to Bateman, I certainly wasn't. As soon as Nate was gone, I'd be on Bateman's radar, I was sure of it. I'd just have to be careful. Careful, I supposed, and hope that Bucky would finally decide to talk to me again and wouldn't mind if I stuck to him like glue.

The sheer thought made me snort.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Author's Note:** Holllllyyyy crrrraaaappppp. That wait. That I made you guys. Hasn't been updated since...August 28. That's a long time. I'm so sorry. I'd like to tell all of you that I had a good explanation for being gone so long, but the truth is, I really don't. See, I've been in a rough patch for writing...since, well, since the beginning of September. That's when I watched _The 100_ and got hooked on that and then the old Writer's Block set in, and it's been with me ever since. I wrote this WITH the Block, so hopefully it's okay...

It is short, mostly because it was written with the Block, but I realize I needed to get content out on this (and my other stories, but...well). So while it is short, there is a bit of foreshadowing in here for what's to come and I promise that I'll try to not make you guys wait so long again. On that note, please review, follow, and favorite! The more reviews I get, the more encouraged I am to update! So please enjoy, and sorry again!

 **Rating:** T (For language and violence)

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing except for all original characters you see.

 **Editing:** All editing is done by me, all mistakes are mine.

 **Face Claim:** Sophia Bush (Like, the one random and totally convenient episode of _One Tree Hill_ set in 1941, which is actually perfect, what the heck, like that's luck. It's episode 6.11 if anyone is wondering what I'm talking about.)

* * *

 _Chapter Thirteen_

 **March 6, 1943 – Camp McCoy, Wisconsin**

I'd been having a relatively good dream when the banging started. It included real food, a walk in Central Park on a cool autumn day, and watching the sunset of the New York City skyline. Downtown was relative quiet in the dream and I dared to say that it was even peaceful. I was enjoying the few moments of serenity I was getting.

Then the noise started. It was quiet at first, an incessant banging that wouldn't stop. It got louder and louder and the beating was uneven, like someone was panicked. I woke up with a start a second later, realizing the banging was coming from my door. Blinking weary eyes, I turned on my bedside lamp and looked at the clock. It was only 6:34 in the morning.

I sat up and rolled out of bed, not really bothering to put on my robe and only wearing my red silk nightgown. I figured whoever was deciding to wake me so early could deal with me not being completely presentable.

With a yawn, I unlocked my door and flung it open, surprised to see a heaving Nathaniel Adams standing there, also in his pajamas. I felt the tips of my ears heat up when I saw what he was wearing. Dressed in only a pair of boxer shorts and a white tank top, he'd haphazardly thrown a robe on, but it wasn't tied and hanging half open. He clearly wasn't worried about it though, his eyes wild and hair sticking up in various directions, not the clean cut and carefully styled like I was used to seeing it. He was gripping a piece of paper until his knuckles were white and he thrust it in my direction.

"Read it," he said shortly.

"Nate, what the—"

"Please, AJ. Just read it." He was pleading with me now and there wasn't any way I could refuse him.

I looked at him warily and snatched up the paper, using my other hand to rub the sleep out of my eyes. The letter was crinkled where Nate had been gripping it and the words were haphazardly written in a messy scrawl. _Quentin's_ messy scrawl. Narrowing my eyes, I read over the message.

 _March 6, 1943_

 _Nate and AJ,_

 _I heard what happened. When I woke up, Phillips told me. They want to fire you, Nate. You were just protecting me. It's not your fault. You don't deserve this. That's why I'm taking the blame. I provoked Bateman. At least, that's my excuse._

 _I know you'd hate me doing this, both of you. But let's face the facts: I can't watch AJ's back. I can't keep her out of harm's way like you could, Nate. So I hope you two understand why I made the choice that I made. By the time you read this, I'll be gone. At least write to me, yeah? My address is on the back. Hopefully we can all get together sometime and laugh about this._

 _I love you guys,_

 _Quentin Belfort_

I was numb as I flipped over the page, seeing a hastily written address. "When did you—"

"I just woke up. It was on my dresser." I wordlessly handed the sheet back and Nate took it gingerly. He ran a hand through his hair, displacing what pieces weren't messed up. His blue eyes met mine and they were more scared than I'd ever seen them. "He took the fall for me, AJ, I can't let him do that!"

I reread the letter once, then twice, making sure I was processing what I was reading. There was no mistake, though. Quentin had taken the blame so Nate could stay on campus and keep me safe. There was a part of me that wondered why I had to be kept safe and why they thought I could be harmed so easily, but it was obvious, wasn't it? Quentin wanted Nate to keep me safe from Bateman.

Rage boiled in the pit of my stomach. I thrust the letter back at Nate and he caught it. Wordlessly, I turned away and went to my bed, sitting on the edge. My mind was racing a hundred miles a minute as I tried to think of how to control the situation. The only thing that came to mind was pinning the blame on Bateman, but I wasn't sure _how_.

"Is that it?"

I looked at Nate, who was resting in my doorway. He was slumped against the doorframe looking utterly defeated. I pursed my lips and said, "I don't see what we can do, Nate."

"We have to get the word out about Bateman, AJ! We have to!" His voice was desperate.

"Don't you think I realize that? But…but, Nate, come on! You heard Phillips! We need evidence, and that's something we don't have! I don't know if it's something we'll ever have. Bateman's a drunken idiot but he isn't a stupid drunken idiot."

Silence fell over the two of us. I watched as Nate read Quentin's letter once more. Then, glancing at me a final time, he turned and left my room, closing the door quietly behind him.

After Nate left, I shut out my light and tried to go back to sleep. It didn't come. I laid in bed for twenty minutes or so, just staring at the ceiling, trying to think of any way to get Quentin back. Nothing came to mind. I didn't see a way out of this. Nate didn't either, that much I was sure of.

Once I was certain I wouldn't get back to sleep, I slipped into some actual clothing consisting of a long red dress and a black leather jacket that had been my father's. After I'd made myself at least sufficiently presentable, I found myself wandering the campus. It was only around a quarter after seven in the morning and already the entire camp was bustling. Soldiers came in and out of the mess hall. Drill sergeants' whistles were heard, their shrill noise paired with gunshots breaking through the peace and quiet of the chilly March morning.

I wasn't particularly hungry, nor was I interested in interacting with any of the soldiers, and I _certainly_ wasn't going to return to the lab where Sharkbait would be. In the time that I'd been there, I'd only really been able to examine the serum twice, both times while Bateman was away. I didn't really ask questions about where he was and I didn't really care. Nate and Quentin had let me know he was away so I could make some tweaks. From what I'd seen since, the serum was just about perfected. All we needed now was the perfect candidate, which I had yet to find. After being on Camp McCoy for so long, I wasn't sure that what I was looking for was here. While some soldiers definitely showed promise, they didn't have the potential that I knew Howard and Erksine were hoping for.

When I found myself underneath the tree that I'd eaten with Bucky and his friends under so long ago, I wasn't surprised. I realized with a start that it had been over a week ago that that had happened. I hadn't seen James since. Not even in passing. A pang of disappointment rushed through my chest and I sighed as I slid down to sit. I'd realized it was pointless to try to dislike Bucky. It was pretty much impossible. My fingers tore up grass as I sat, just relaxing and thinking, which was something I hadn't had much time to do in light of recent events. Between interviewing soldiers who weren't even close to being qualified to take the serum and dealing with Erik Bateman, I didn't have much time to do anything.

A canteen appeared in my line of sight. I started, my eyes travelling from the canteen, to the hand that held it, up the hand's arm, all the way to the face of James Barnes. He wasn't smiling like I was used to, but rather his expression was reserved, like he was trying to figure out what to say to me. He looked different from the last time I'd seen him. He was clean shaven now and his hair was clipped shorter on the sides. His blue eyes were less carefree than I was used to. The only thing that was the same about him was what he was wearing: white shirt under a kelly green overshirt, unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled to his elbows with a pair of standard issue pants and combat boots. I was struggling to keep my expression neutral because I was incredibly happy to see him. But he didn't need to know that.

I took the canteen and he sat down next to me without a word, pulling his knees up to his chest. I took a drink, expecting water, but instead I got something incredibly different. Making a face, I looked over at Bucky. "Chocolate milk?"

A smile ghosted across his lips. " _Iced_ chocolate milk," he corrected.

I wrinkled my nose. "That's gross!"

"You're drinking it, aren't you?"

I didn't have an answer, so instead I lowered the canteen from my lips. "Why ice?"

"I'd rather have my chocolate milk slightly watered down rather than spoiled, wouldn't you agree?" he asked, the playful light in his eyes resurfacing.

"It's chilly out here, Ja–Bucky," I corrected. "I don't think it's going to spoil."

"Well, I'd rather be safe than sorry."

We lapsed into a bit of silence after that and I handed the drink back to Bucky. He took a drink and fiddled with cap for a moment. He cleared his throat and said, "I heard what happened." I looked at him quizzically. "With Belfort," he clarified. "And Bateman…word is flying. You accused him of being a drunk?"

"It wasn't an accusation. I was telling the truth," I huffed, letting my head fall back and hit the tree with a defeated _thunk_.

"Hey now, I never said you was lyin'. I believe you, AJ. I do." He opened his mouth to say something, but held it back. "So what's going to happen then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Belfort's gone and Bateman's got slack. Aren't you and the other guy going to do something? Adams, was it?"

"There's not much we can do," I said, ripping out a chunk of grass. When I held it up, a gust of wind caught the blades and they flew off my hand, into the air. "We don't have evidence. We just have a whole lot of nothing unless Sully steps up."

"Sully. That's the guy who practically worships Bateman?"

"He _cowers under_ Bateman," I corrected. "We think Bateman abuses him, surprise surprise. I just don't see how this entire thing can be so corrupt. It's like the whole world's going to shit, not just overseas."

Bucky whistled. "You got a mouth on you, Frosty." He cracked a grin, and as much as his demeanor made me feel a bit warmer, I couldn't bring myself to smile back.

"I think this would suffice as a reason to use strong language."

Bucky sobered up quickly and I appreciated it. "I agree with you, AJ, I do. But I don't agree with you and Adams just sittin' around like ducks. Why don't you get that evidence, huh?"

"Where would we even start for something like that?"

Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but a whistle blew shrilly. He checked his wrist watch and said a few words that I was certain my grandmother wouldn't have appreciated. "That's my sarge. I have to hustle or I'll be stuck with KP duty again."

"KP?" I asked.

"Kitchen patrol. It's as bad as it sounds," he said as he stood up and dusted his pants off.

"How'd you get roped into that?"

Bucky merely grinned at me crookedly. "Apparently the Sarge doesn't like me takin' leisure strolls and sharin' my meal with the lady scientist on base."

I could feel the tips of my ears heat up at the insinuation. "You're getting in trouble because of me?" My voice came out an octave higher than usual.

"Because of you? Hell no! I'm getting in trouble on my own accord, Frosty. You got nothing to do with it." His smile stretched a bit wider, his eyes twinkling. "Besides, it was worth every godforsaken second of scrubbing those dishes."

I ducked down and shook my head, partially because I couldn't believe him, partially because I didn't want him to see my growing blush that I just _knew_ was there. I didn't even want to acknowledge it and yet, there it was. "I–You're telling me that–Oh my God, you're going to end up getting _both_ of us in trouble!" I said after I stopped speaking in sentence fragments.

Bucky chuckled good naturedly. "I don't think so. Your CO here is Bateman, and I don't think he gives a rat's behind about reports on you. So technically the only one getting in trouble here is gonna be me."

The whistle sounded again and I looked up at Bucky, unable to wipe the grin off of my face. "You're going to be stuck with dirty dishes again," I warned.

He laughed and backed away as he started to make his way towards where I could see a small group of soldiers lined up. "Like I said, it's worth it." Before he turned around he said, "And about Bateman. You and Adams…you two aren't just gonna quit. It's not in your nature and after hearing about the beating Adams gave that jackass…it's not in his either. You'll find your evidence. I mean, there's gotta be somethin'. He's a drinker, AJ, he'll leave a trail." By that point he was yelling because he was so far from me and making an absolute fool of himself. He spread his arms. "You're a genius, AJ Frost!" he yelled.

A small laugh escaped my lips and I could see his smile, all bright as he turned around and broke into a jog to reach his sergeant.

I shook my head and as I leaned back, my hand bumped something. I glanced to my left and there was Bucky's canteen. He'd left it there and I picked it up. I could hear the ice cubes rattling inside. To this day, I'm still not certain whether Bucky left it there on purpose or not. It didn't matter though, because sitting there, staring at the canteen gave me a brilliant idea.

What had Bucky said? _He's a drinker, AJ, he'll leave a trail_. Of course he would. He was a drinker. He had to get his supply from somewhere and he had to keep it somewhere, on campus most likely. The only question was…where?


	15. UPDATE

So, this is NOT an update and I apologize, but also it sort of is...? This story's been picked up by a friend of mine and with my permission and editing, she's continuing it over on AO3 (Archive of Our Own). It's under the same title or you can check out me by name, still TheOCArchitect, or by my co-author now, under ohhitherekate. Or right here: Frosties and Fireworks. I think. I don't know how hyperlinks work. Anyway so yeah. I apologize for my sheer lack of effort and activity, but I hope this makes up for it a little bit.

Love all you awesome nerds for putting up with my slack. And head on over to AO3 for more of this fic!


End file.
